


A House Divided

by lovinthelads



Category: Football RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 49,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8445475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovinthelads/pseuds/lovinthelads
Summary: Club v Country ignite as the dressing rooms of Chelsea and Liverpool try to make sense of where their real loyalties lay.  Can anyone say what's right when it comes to love?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my 2016 Nano offering which means a couple of things:
> 
> 1\. I'm madly trying to write a couple thousand words a day so I apologize in advance for plot inconsistencies! 
> 
> 2\. Cheerleading would be greatly appreciated. I wasn't going to do this for the first time in 12 years and then suddenly I was. I will need encouraging!
> 
> 3\. Plot suggestions are ALWAYS WELCOME. I'm going to get stuck. If you see a thread of plot you'd like followed up, LET ME KNOW!!!!
> 
> 4\. "Constructive" criticism is not much use, TBH. Look, I'm going to make mistakes. Forget to update tags and lose track of things. You pointing out my failings is not going to help.
> 
> Yes, this is insane, but hopefully in the fun way!

“Look,” JT said as he toweled off after the match. “The rules are simple. You don’t date someone outside your club. It’s that easy.”

 

Ruben Loftus-Cheek and Dominic Solanke gazed respectfully at their captain and mention, absorbing everything he said. JT had been around the block. He knew the rules.

 

But Cesc looked up from his phone. “National team is allowed.”

 

JT glanced at Cesc who was probably, at that moment, sexting Iker Casillas. “Maybe when you’re with the national team, but you don’t do that outside of call-ups. It can destroy team unity.”

 

“You’re one to make rules,” Gary said as he pulled a jar of Creme de la Mer out of his locker and applying it to his face. “Your lover played for both teams.”

 

JT shrugged. “He played for the national team longer than I did.”

 

“So now that he’s in New York?” Cesc asked with a smirk. “Is it all over?”

 

JT shot Cesc a glare. Fucking Arsenal punk. “Frank and I are...different. He’s still Chelsea.”

 

“Players change teams,” David Luiz said as he fluffed out his hair. “Your heart doesn’t always follow your contract.”

 

“Look, most of us are married with kids. When we’re messing around with our teammates, it’s different. Which is why it’s best to keep it in the club. You’re on the same schedule. And it’s just a bit of harmless fun, anyway.”

 

Dom glanced at Ruben who was busy with his shoes. He was tying up the laces on his latest pair of trainers. Dom could have sworn he never wore a pair twice. Hell, he’d seen his closet. He had more shoes than the queen. Was it really just a bit of harmless fun?

 

Neither he nor Ruben had a girlfriend. They’d been roommates since moving out of their parents’ places when he’d been sixteen and Ruben was 17. The idea was that they’d keep each other out of trouble. Not even their mothers realized they were actually lovers.

 

Not that they ever discussed anything. This was probably the first time they’d ever even heard anyone have a conversation about having sex with your teammates. Not even when they were drunk did they do much more than giggle about it. Everyone knew JT and Frank had been lovers for years. It was such common knowledge that no one even raised an eyebrow. And Cesc. Well, everyone knew about Cesc and Iker and well...how many ever others he’d been with.

 

They were guys, right? Guys didn’t talk about feelings, or so his father had raised him to believe.

 

His father…

 

“Dom? Hello?” Ruben was looking at him concerned. “You okay?”

 

“Totally, yeah,” Dom said too quickly as he grabbed his towel and threw it at the laundry basket and missed.

 

“What’s for lunch today, anyway?” Cesar asked as he collected the towel for Dom.

 

“Who cares, there’s no ketchup,” Cesc whined. “Why can’t we have ketchup?”

 

“Because it’s nothing but salt and sugar?” Cesar reminded him. The new manager was a stickler for nutrition. Cesc had already gotten a dressing down for posting on Instagram a picture of him having pizza with his kids. 

 

“I need it,” Cesc complained as he drank from a third Lucozade of the morning.

 

“You’re sweet enough without it,” Cesar pinched his butt as he skipped out of the dressing room and to the team cafeteria where carefully nutritionally balanced food was being prepared for them.

 

And Cesc would eat half of his and run through the McDonalds on his way home.

 

“You wanna go to a movie or something this afternoon?” Ruben asked. The team was a bit at loose ends this season. It was only October and they were already out of the League Cup and hadn’t qualified for Europe. Normally action packed mid-weeks had turned into too long sessions of video games and shopping trips.

 

“What is there to see? I’m not going to that new Troll movie.” 

 

Ruben frowned. “But…”

 

“Trolls man. Trolls.”

 

“My kids loved that,” Eden said.

 

“Exactly. His five year old,” Dom said emphatically.

 

Ruben made a face. “I’ll buy. I’ll even spring for the pick-a-mix.”

 

“I’ll come!” Cesc said happily.

 

“Alright,” Dom agreed. “But I’m not sitting by Cesc.”

 

* * * * *

 

JT sat in the queue in the after school pick up area and checked his phone for a message for the tenth time in the last five minutes. 

 

Okay, he was probably still at training. It was the play-offs for the MLS and certainly there were extra sessions. Or whatever they did over there. He’d said he’d let JT know about his off-season plans and he would. The play-off could take like, well, however long it too. And sure, Frank would go away with the girls at Christmas, but…

 

The back door of the Land Rover flew open and blond hair flew into the truck along with a torrent of conversation it too JT a few moment to cue into. His twins had always had a connection that he and his wife always felt a little bit on the outside of.

 

“Daddy, Georgie thinks that we need to go to Portugal at the next international break, but I wanna go to Disneyland Paris.”

 

“And when did you two start thinking you get to decide? Don’t you all have lessons that week?”

 

“We could just go at the weekend. That’s why Disneyland is better,” Summer negotiated. “Less traveling.”

 

“But it’s cold and wet here. I want the sun,” Georgie pleaded.

 

JT let the debate continue on the ten minute drive to the house. He’d, quite frankly, forgotten that international break was coming up again soon. He’d get a few days off to be sure. One of the best parts of his international retirement had been more time to spend with his kids.

 

“We’ll talk it over with Mummy,” JT said as he pulled up in front of the house. As the kids thundered inside, he called, “Homework first!”

 

There were grumbles, but as JT went to collect the post at the end of the drive, he knew that by the time he returned, they’d be out of uniform and at the kitchen table, noses in book. He was never sure where natural inclination ended and parenting started, but he’d never had to deal with kids not getting their work done. If it was instinct, they’re surely gotten it from Toni. He’d barely scraped a couple of GCSEs.

 

Toni was not in the house when he joined the twins in the kitchen. Something was in the oven and the twins were already halfway through some cheese sandwiches that had been left out for them.

 

“Maths!” Summer announced as JT peered at the homework books. 

 

“Maths,” Georgie sighed and scooted closer to his sister, likely hoping to copy some answers. JT knew that Georgie was going to be in trouble when they hit secondary school and wouldn’t be in all the same classes any more. He was probably more capable than he let on, but he also relied on his sister to help explain the tricky bits.

 

His phone still refusing to give him any information, JT went to turn on Sky Sports News to see what the latest was. He’d not seen the NFL scores from America yet.

 

His phone chimed and he grabbed it.

 

“Mate, you up for some golf this week?”

 

It was Jamie Carragher. The former Liverpool man was in London quite often for his work with Sky Sports and they met up regularly for a round of golf. JT glanced at his calendar and saw he had nothing Wednesday afternoon. He sent back a reply and agreed to set up the tee time.

 

Jamie was a man who understood club loyalties. He’d have likely popped Fabregas in the mouth for insinuating that your club wasn’t your top priority. He’d spent his career in one place. 

 

But then again, Jamie had also seen players come and go. Watched Stevie fuck off to America for the money. Watched true love denied in the face of greener pastures…

 

“Daddy! Mummy says we can go to Disneyland!” Summer broke into his thoughts as she jumped on the couch with him.

 

“Sounds like a fun weekend, honey,” JT agreed without thinking.

 

Toni leaned over the couch and kissed his cheek. “She said you said it was okay.”

 

Summer looked guilty and JT dragged her down to tickle her. “I did, did I?”

 

Summer squirmed away, laughing and escaped to the kitchen. 

 

“It’s fine. We need to take them on a mini-break before the holidays anyway,” JT said, forever guilty that he didn’t get to spend Christmas day with his family.

 

“We could at least pretend we’re in charge of the house, you know,” Toni mentioned as she handed JT a bill that he’d abandoned on the kitchen counter. He paid the bills and she kept the house. It was an arrangement that suited them both, well.

 

‘We’re totally in charge. We’ll book the tickets and the plane and tell them exactly when to get on Space Mountain,” JT grinned, his wife, as always, able to make him smile.

 

She was his best friend, but not the love of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SO MANY CHARACTERS....
> 
> Dave and Eden and Jordan and Adam and...

When Daniella got home from the gym, she found Cesc on the floor of the dining room, he and the two girls covered in finger paints.

 

“MUMMY!” Lia cried as she got up to hug her and Daniella had to dodge the cheerful toddler lest the paints get all over her Gucci workout pants. 

 

“Careful there, sweetie,” she said and shot and annoyed look at Cesc.

 

Cesc smiled cheekily. “We thought the tile floor would be better than the carpeting.”

 

Daniella saw small, red handprints on the white legs of the dining room chairs. She had five children, not four, she thought to herself. 

 

Reminding herself to tip the cleaning staff extra this month, she put on a smile. “Are we going out to dinner tonight.”

 

“Lia go with Mummy and Daddy!” 

 

“Not tonight, Princessa,” Cesc said as he picked a daughter up under each arm, not minding that his Puma tracksuit was now done for. “It’s Daddy and Mummy’s night out.”

 

‘When is LIA night out?” she demanded.

 

Cesc glanced at Daniella. “How about Lia and Mummy go to tea tomorrow afternoon?”

 

“WITH DADDY,” Lia argued.

 

“With Daddy,” Cesc agreed, wondering if they served alcohol at Harrod’s.

 

Capri giggled happily. She didn’t talk enough yet to participate in the conversation. She was also ten times more easy going than Lia. They could probably leave her at home alone and she’d play with the dog without complaint.

 

Cesc dropped the girls in the bathtub and let their nanny, a plain looking woman called Beverly, clean them off while he went to take his own shower before going out.

 

He checked his phone. 

 

“Hey sexy.”

 

Cesc grinned. “Not now, Geri,” he sent back as he tossed the phone on the bed and stripped off his clothes. Before he could turn on the water, he heard it chime again. Knowing better, he grabbed the waterproof phone and took it with him.

 

“Face-Time?”

 

Be before Cesc could even respond, the phone was ringing through, a picture of Gerard on the screen. With a grin, Cesc answered it.

 

“Hey baby, what’s up?” Gerard said in the Catalan they always spoke to each other. Even though many of their Spain and Barcelona teammates spoke it as well, it always seemed like the pair of them were in their own world when they did.

 

"I'm supposed to be getting ready for dinner with Daniella," Cesc said even as Gerard's eyes widened as he realized that Cesc was naked.

 

"Daniella who?" Gerard teased. Yes they were both married to wonderful women who'd given them amazing children, but they always...when it was just them, it was supposed to just be them.

 

Cesc groaned as Gerard propped the phone against a pillow and leaned back. Cesc could seem him splayed out on the bed in nothing but a pair of track pants which did little to disguise the reason for the call.

 

"I wanna see you."

 

"I'm in the shower," Cesc protested again even as he looked around the tiled space to see where he might prop it.

 

"Ooh, get yourself wet for me, baby."

 

Cesc leaned it against Daniella's three hundred pound body wash a stepped back to see Gerard's hand had disappeared into his pants. 

 

Cesc groaned. "I hate it when you call me half way there."

 

Geri winked at him. "You better catch up."

 

Cesc couldn't say no to that. As a matter of fact, he got so involved in what he was doing, that he didn't hear the bathroom door open. 

 

"Oh for fuck's sake, Cesc! Would you start locking the door!"

 

****

 

Danny jogged up and down the edge of the practice pitch on his own. He wasn't particularly thinking about anything, but he was slightly annoyed when Jordan fell into step with him.

 

It was a crisp fall day in Liverpool. The skies shone bright and clear blue in a hue that didn't seem to exist anywhere else in the world. The grass was damp from dew and the air seemed to promise the grim dark of winter that was fast approaching.

 

"You're always the first one out here, Danny," his team captain said with with a friendly smile. There was a reason they'd made Jordan team captain. He really was the kind of guy that you couldn't dislike.

 

He often made Danny crazy.

 

"Manager doesn't rate me, does he? Danny said, his usual surly attitude coming through. He got annoyed with himself as he saw the smile slide off Hendo's face. Well, maybe he shouldn't ask if he didn't want to know the truth.

 

"Well, you know Jurgen," Jordan tried to deflect Danny's anger. "He has his way of doing things. Every manager does."

 

Danny was silent. He'd been through his share of managers. He knew. He knew all about his bad attitude and how it affected his playing. But it was hard. It was hard to be the cheerful one all the time. He wasn't that kind of person. He wasn't a cookie-cutter perfectly good little boy like Jordan or Adam. Things we're always shiny and perfect in his world. Fuck, things weren't shiny and perfect in anyone's word and they we full of shit if they pretended otherwise.

 

He had to give Jordan credit though. Most of his other team captains had given up on him long, long before this. JT had stopped talking to him about his attitude about a month after he arrived at the club.

 

Jordan saw Adam emerge from the building and was grateful to have an excuse to peel off from the truculent Danny. He knew he had to keep trying with him but the guy never gave him any room to work with.

 

"I'm going to start calling you 'Saint Hendo'," Adam said as he met Jordan at midfield for them to start stretching.

 

"Why's that?" Jordan asked as he made himself stand several feet away from him.

 

"You, trying so hard with Danny. There is literally nothing you are going to do to improve his attitude."

 

Jordan shrugged. "Okay, but if I give up on him too, then we're just reinforces what he already thinks about himself."

 

"What's that?" Adam asked. "I mean, besides god's gift to strikers?"

 

Jordan shook his head. "Yes, he's loud. Yes, his attitude could be improved, but if football has taught him anything over the last five years it's that he's just not good enough. On his day, he's one of the best I've ever seen, but his days seem to come few and far between any more."

 

"He's always hurt," Adam said as he watched Danny run alone. Other members of the team had trickled out, but seemed to be congregating at the far end of the pitch, not eager to bother either Danny or their captain and his lover.

 

"Is he?" Jordan asked. "Isn't it always easier to be hurt than in bad form?"

 

"You think he's faking it?" Adam asked a little too loudly and then glanced around to be sure no one had heard.

 

Jordan chuckled. "Nah. But you've run through injuries. Played with some pain because you were eager to make a good impression. Danny has realized that it's easier to just sit it out than to play through it. He just needs...."

 

Jordan trailed off as Jurgen arrived and blew the whistle. The team jogged toward him.

 

Danny arrived last.

 

* * * *

 

"No no no," Eden protested as Cesar wrestled him to the floor in the middle of training. "Not here not here!"

 

"Why not?" Cesar said as he bit at his earlobe before releasing the smaller man.

 

The sky was overcast west of London, and the team was bundled up against the grey November. Diego was dressed like he was on a polar trek, but Eden didn't have a hat on, leaving his tender ear lobes vulnerable to attack.

 

Eden squirmed away.

 

"You heard JT. Messing around with club teammates it totally allowed," Cesar grinned as Eden dribbled a ball away from him. He took off after him and only paused when he saw Conte glaring at them.

 

"I don't think Andre agrees," Eden shot back as he joined a group starting to pull on bibs for five-a-side. 

 

Cesc winced as he pulled his over his head.

 

"Wounded there, Fabs?" Cesar asked in Spanish. He spoke French to Eden, English to most of the team, and Spanish to his Spain teammates. Cesar was fluent in several languages.

 

"I slipped in the shower," Cesc admitted.

 

"And what, exactly, were you doing in the shower?"

 

"Uh," Cesc said as he went pink in the face.

 

"Oh Cescito," Pedro laughed as he stole the ball off of Eden and dribbled away.

 

Conte blew the whistle and the match started up. Eden and Cesar were on opposing teams, and Cesar made it his goal to get in his face every moment of the scrimmage. Conte was urging him on, knowing that Eden spent most of every match with a defender up his backside.

 

Figuratively speaking.

 

He'd have a defender up his backside this afternoon if Cesar could arrange it.

 

"Get off!" Eden protested after the pair slid to the floor and Cesar landed on top of him.

 

"Make me," Cesar giggled, but rolled aside to let the Belgian up.

 

Eden was laughing. He goofy Spaniard was hard to resist with his bright smile and easy laugh. When Eden had first come to Chelsea, he'd struggled to settle in the dressing room. He spoke little English, but the Spaniard had spent time at a French club and quickly befriended him. He served as his translator for awhile. Even after Eden has gotten acclimated and become a fan favorite, he still relied on Cesar to help him out from time to time. 

 

At least he was better than Diego, who, after two and a half years at the club, still parroted the captain rather than speak on his own.

 

Speaking of their illustrious captain, JT wasn't very cheerful this morning. He gave his best in training as always, but he wasn't joking with the lads as he usually did, and didn't argue when Conte told him to sit out the next round of five-a-side. True, he'd been recovering from an injury, but this is the man who'd played the second half of a season with a broken toe he refused to let heal and they once actually had to force to have surgery to repair a broken back.

 

The demise of their former manager had hit JT personally. He had played for Jose for so long...through such amazing times for the club, and to see him leave a second time in disgrace...well...

 

"That is good for today," Conte said in his heavily accented English.

 

The team broke up, herding the balls toward the kit man who was gathering them in a bag. This was another thing Cesar loved about Chelsea. Every one was in it together. Sure, the million pound players could wander back to the dressing room without a glance at the kit man, but, well, after JT had finished chewing out their asses, they'd have gotten dish duty from the manager.

 

"I have the house to myself this afternoon," Cesar said as he followed Eden toward the shower.

 

"I don't!" Eden reminded him. "The boys and I are going to the park. Where is Adriana and the baby?"

 

"Her mother is visiting and they're out sight-seeing today," Cesar said with a pout. He'd been trying to pin Eden down to an afternoon for more than a week, but for some reason, Eden seemed reluctant. He looked at his friend. "Is...is something wrong?"

 

"What? No," Eden said too quickly.

 

Cesar let the silence be his reply as they arrived back at the Cobham dressing room.

 

"It's..." Eden said carefully, not able to meet Cesar's eye. "Natasha found out about us and she's not happy."

 

This stopped Cesar in his tracks. Diego nearly crashed into him as he'd come to a halt in the middle of the doorway.

 

"What do you mean she's not happy."

 

"She's not happy I'm fucking another person, okay?" Eden hissed as he pulled Cesar into a nearby massage room which was empty. The smell of liniment was strong in the air.

 

"I mean," Cesar tried to deflect. "I mean, it's not like you and I mean...anything."

 

Eden gave him a look that said of course they meant something to each other. That they understood each other maybe better than anyone else in the world could understand them. Certainly better than their wives.

 

Cesar had to look away from it. "Well, whatever."

 

"Not whatever," Eden said as he tried to grab Cesar's arm as he brushed past him. "Cesar..."

 

But the defender pulled away too sharply.

 

No. He didn't want to do this. He knew he cared more about Eden than Eden cared about him. When did Eden ever care about anything more than himself?

 

Even as Cesar thought it, he knew he was being unfair, but it didn't change how he felt. He cared more than Eden did. 

 

Because there was no way Eden felt the same about him and be able to pull away like he did.

 

* * * *

 

Ruben lay on the couch, playing Madden Mobile on his phone, mostly because, once again, Dom had managed to leave the controllers to the X-Box somewhere never to be found again. He just didn't have the energy.

 

"What you up to?"

 

A text broke into Ruben's game, and a smile broke on his face as he realized it was from Danny.

 

"Nothing, you?"

 

"Not much. Madden?"

 

"Totally." Ruben was up off the couch in a moment. The controller was actually just on the side table and he had the X-Box logged in a few minutes later. 

 

"I'm playing the Patriots!"

 

"You're always the Patriots," Ruben complained even as he loaded up the Cowboys. His dad had always been a Cowboys fan even though for most of Ruben's life, they hadn't been that great. They had a pretty good record this season.

 

They played a few games, Danny usually the victor. Ruben knew Danny played a lot more than he did, especially since he'd been hurt this fall. 

 

"England team gets announced tomorrow," Danny happened to mention once they'd finished a game.

 

"Oh yeah. You're playing Scotland soon?"

 

"Well, if I get called up," Danny said, his voice unsure in a way he wasn't with very many people.

 

"Bullshit, you'll get called up."

 

"I barely play."

 

"More than me!" Ruben reminded him. He'd started the year strong, but lately he'd been a pity sub in games Chelsea were up 4-0. He hadn't even been on the bench for the league cup match they'd lost recently the West Ham.

 

"You're a kid," Danny teased. "Your day will come."

 

"Rooney had been playing for England's first team for four years by the time he was my age," Ruben sighed as he watched the menu for the game repeat.

 

"Well, you ain't Rooney, son."

 

"Shut up, asshole," Ruben said even as he burst out laughing.

 

"Is the boyfriend home?" Danny asked.

 

"He's not my boyfriend."

 

"You sleep and live with him," Danny reminded him.

 

"Well, I know," Ruben said. He was probably being unfair to Dom to say it, but...

 

"He's a good kid," Danny said kindly.

 

He's not you, Ruben thought. "I better get going. I said I'd fix dinner."

 

"Just order out, son. You'd burn spaghetti."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JT and Jamie reminisce and it's a blast from the past for the Spanish National Team.

Jamie arrived at the golf course and gazed up at the grey skies. It didn't look too threatening today, and, in general, if you wanted to be a golfer in England, you had to golf in the rain some days. His wife would kill him if he came home with another pair of mud spattered golfing pants, though.

 

"Looks like the rain should hold of," JT said as he entered the lobby of the golf club. Both of them had their clubs collected from them by the valet and they would be waiting for them on a cart shortly. 

 

"You call this rainy?" Jamie said, firing up the ongoing battle of who had the worse weather, London or Liverpool. "This is nothing."

 

JT laughed as they shook hands and headed together to the locker room to put on their golf shoes and put away their bags. "It's actually been pretty nice around here this fall. Something tells me we might be in for a bad winter."

 

They teed off to a promising start for both of them. JT tended to be the better golfer, and Jamie often teased him about the lazy life of a professional footballer. 

 

"You don't want to go into broadcasting, mate," Jamie said. "The hours are brutal."

 

"I'm looking at coaching," JT said. "Much more time off."

 

"And you don't have to get your eyebrows threaded."

 

"I really don't want to know what that means, do I?"

 

"It's as painful as you think," Jamie warned him. He had never, ever been the kind of person who spent much more than ten minutes in the bathroom to clean and shave. Now he spent an hour a day in a make-up chair and had three people personally responsible for making sure he looked presentable.

 

"They don't have much to work with, mate," JT teased even as he watching his latest drive pull left toward the tree-line. The Essex golf club was set in a gorgeous area of rolling hills and tree-lined fairways. 

 

"You're telling me. But it takes them twice as long to get Redknapp looking pretty."

 

"They probably need a surgeon to do something with Neville."

 

"You're not wrong."

 

At the end of nine holes, the sky began to spit rain and they decided to adjourn to the clubhouse for a late lunch. Toni always teased JT that his golf outtings always cost more than a day at Harrods for her by the time he paid for everyone's greens fees, carts, and picked up the check at lunch. It wasn't like friends such as Jamie were hurting, JT just liked to treat people. He'd spent his childhood watching his mother scrape together a tenner to get groceries, and it make him feel good that he could treat people.

 

"So, you talk to Frank lately," Jamie threw the firebomb into the conversation as the salads arrived.

 

"Oh, you know," JT said as he focused on his balsamic vinaigrette dressing, careful not to get any on his croutons. They never gave you enough croutons at this place, JT pondered as he tried not to think of the real answer to that question. "MLS playoffs and all."

 

"Frank decided what he's doing next season? He's surely not ready to retire is he?"

 

"I think he's ready to be back in England with the girls," JT said. So the girls had been begging their mother to move them to New York to be near Frank, and Frank had said he'd be happy to play another season in the MLS if he could have them there. JT didn't want that at all.

 

"I couldn't be away from my kids like that," Jamie said. "Being down here in London for several days a week about does me in. We talked about moving down here, but the kids don't want to move and Nicola doesn't want to be that far from the family. I don't blame them."

 

JT nodded. "I tell you what, as much as I hate being out of Europe, not being away from the family this season has been wonderful."

 

"You need to focus on them," Jamie said as he caught JT's eye. "They're what's really important. Nothing else."

 

JT looked him in the eye. "I love him."

 

"I know you do. I know he's important to you. You know I know," Jamie said as he set down his fork. "But he's gone and it's over."

 

"It's not over," JT shook his head and closed his eyes. For fuck's sake he was not going to cry in the middle of the golf club restaurant.

 

"How many years did I tell myself that?" Jamie pressed. "How many times was I down in London? How many times did he come to see me?"

 

"Frank isn't Fernando," JT pleaded. "Fernando was..."

 

Jamie shook his head. "I know. I know Fernando was never going to leave Ollala. I know that. But neither is Frank going to leave Christine."

 

"He left Elen for me," JT said quietly. "He left Elen and I was too fucking stupid to see what he was offering me when he did that."

 

"You had everything. You had everything and why would you think you couldn't have everything forever?"

 

"Are we stupid, Jamie?" JT asked as he pushed his now soggy croutons around his salad. 

 

"Stupid to think we could think we could have our cake and eat it too?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Probably. But who ever said we were the smart ones?"

 

* * * * 

 

“Ketchup,” Cesc said with all the happiness that could only be achieved by Cesc with a plate of potatoes and a fresh bottle of Heinz 57.

 

"I can't believe your manager has banned ketchup," Gerard said as Cesc smacked the side of his beloved bottle and great red glops of sauce splattered out like a crime scene.

 

"I know. It's like, a vegetable." Cesc picked up a chunk of slippery, coated potato and slurped it into his mouth. He let out a moan of happiness.

 

"And there's one to save for later," Cesar said, snapping a photo on his phone and seeing Cesc's eyes get wide.

 

"Fucking hell, Azpi! You can't show that to Conte!" Cesc whined as he reached for the phone, spatting Gerard's plate with ketchup.

 

The Spanish national team had arrived at the training center and were enjoying lunch before a light afternoon session. 

 

"You're going to puke ketchup all over the pitch later," Cesar said as he texted the photo to Eden who'd get a kick out of it. He and Eden had been a little frosty since their conversation the other day, but Eden always texted him loads on the international break. Things would be fine, soon.

 

"I will not," Cesc said even as he rescued his ketchup off of Gerard's plate with another chunk of potato.

 

"He's actually never going to grow up, is he?" Iker commented as he took the seat on the other side of Cesc and grinned over his head at Gerard.

 

"Three kids," Gerard said. "And he regresses with everyone."

 

"Five," Cesc said with a glare. Joseph and Maria were his kids too.

 

"He's going for a round half dozen," Geri teased.

 

"Daniella says this is the last, last one," Cesc said even as he went back for more ketchup. 

 

"I thought she said that after Capri," Iker said.

 

"Well, then Capri started walking and Daniella loves babies."

 

"Well, we know why she married Cesc."

 

"Did you hear?" Pedro leaned between Cesc and Iker to try to take the ketchup but nearly got his arm bit off.

 

"Hear what," Iker said as he elbowed Cesc aside and handed the ketchup bottle to Pedro.

 

"Ramos and Torres are back on. Sernando lives!"

 

"Wait, what?" Cesc gaped and glanced at Iker to see his friend pale slightly.

 

But Pedro had moved away with his booty and left the remaining people at the table to buzz with interest. Fernando wasn't there. He hadn't been called up recently, but they craned their necks to see where Sergio was sitting. The Sevillian had joined Morata at the next table over in the open plan dining area.

 

"How does he even know?" Cesar demanded.

 

"He's full of shit," Cesc said, even though he knew Pedro better than that. Pedro was a gossip, but he always had good gossip.

 

Iker was busily eating his rice and ignoring the fact that everyone was looking at him. No, no he didn't know what Sergio was up to these days. Sergio and he barely talked any more now that he was in Portugal.

 

Cesc felt protective of Iker. The two of them had, actually, never been more than just really good friends despite the fact that everyone assumed they were lovers. Cesc knew how Iker felt about Sergio.

 

He supposed Iker and Sergio had been like JT and Frank. The perfect couple: Club and country. Nothing to stand in their way. Neither of them would ever leave Real Madrid...would they?

 

And then Jose had happened. How many lives had that man destroyed, anyway, he thought angrily as he jabbed his fork at his green beans. 

 

"Don't make the vegetable pay for your anger," Iker said quietly and gave Cesc a small smile of appreciation for his loyalty.

 

"Fucking Ramos," Cesc muttered.

 

"We don't even know if it's true."

 

"Oh, Pedro knows," Cesc said. "He knows everything. He asked me about Daniella's pregnancy before we'd been to the doctor to confirm it." 

 

"Well, it's not like he and I are together any more, anyway," Iker said. 

 

Cesc knew. "The Fer-nado moves on."

 

"Indeed he does."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nano coach said "If you get stuck, you can always kill someone..."
> 
> I wasn't feeling that blood thirsty, but I have set something on fire....

"Welcome, Ruben!" Wayne called across the dressing room as the Chelsea youngster appeared for his call-up.

 

"Thanks, Ruben said as he set his kit bag next to the grinning Danny Sturridge. 

 

"I can't believe you got called up," Danny said.

 

"Shut it. I've had some good matches."

 

"And England are desperate with Vardy out of form."

 

Ruben sat next to him and glanced around the room. Every face was familiar to Ruben who'd watched football his whole life. England didn't play a match that he and his dad hadn't been glued to. His dad had actually cried when he'd called him with the news. Seeing Ruben play for England was his father's greatest wish in life.

 

Across the room, Jordan was elbowing Adam. "Look at Studge."

 

"Hendo, I'm starting to think you want to have an affair with him as obsessed as you are with him," Adam complained, slightly grumpy after having left his favorite pillow at home. How was he supposed to sleep in that stupid England hotel without his pillow.

 

"I called your wife, she's having your pillow sent down with a courier service. It will be here before we go to bed. Could you focus?"

 

"You did?" Adam said with a smile.

 

"You complained about it the entire flight here," Jordan said. "Danny. Happy. Look."

 

Adam turned his attention to their usually surly teammate and found him laughing with Ruben Loftus-Cheek.

 

"What the...?"

 

"I know, right?" Jordan said. "They must be friends from when Danny was at Chelsea."

 

"Thank you, Miss Marple."

 

"I am going to smack you into next week," Jordan threatened even as he laughed at Adam's corny joke.

 

"You could uh...fuck me into next week."

 

"I'm definitively fucking you into that pillow," Jordan muttered.

 

The England team was in more than a bit of a muddle after the unceremonious sacking of Sam Allardyce. Gareth Southgate had been put in temporary charge, and while he was a competent manager, he really didn't have much sway over the dressing room at the moment. Al lot of the problem came from the rot much further up in the organization. England's Football Association seemed to be of the opinion that since the Premier League was the most profitable football league in the world, but rights, their national team should be on top form as well. They didn't do much to cultivate the kind of football culture that would bring them more of the glory they were still trying to relieve from 1966.

 

No, what they needed most was a leader in the dressing room, really, Jordan pondered as he watched the team meander about, no one really taking note of the fact that training was due to start in about five minutes. If this was Melwood and he was in charge, he'd have yelled at them to get a move on and been out the door himself by now rather than helping Adam try to figure out how to track the package containing his pillow on his phone.

 

Jordan liked Wayne Rooney, but Wayne just did not have the leadership drive to get a team going. He'd played under excellent team captains and strong managers at club level. But now that he was one of the senior members, he just hadn't quite figured out how to motivate his teammates.

 

You were born a leader or you weren't, Jordan supposed as he got up from the bench to head out to training. He was, after all, vice-captain, but he hated to step on Wayne's toes. However, if he'd learned anything from great leaders he'd worked with was that you lead by example. He and Adam gathered Danny (who was quickly followed by Ruben) and led the way out to the training pitch. 

 

The training began with the usual drills. Every manager liked to think they had a special way to shake things up, but honestly, how many ways were there to effectively stretch your hamstrings.

 

They were jogging through some drills when there was an explosion in the building behind them. 

 

"Holy SHIT!" someone shouted as they players instinctively hit the deck. They were well clear of the building and the debris fell around them. There were a few yells as players were hit.

 

Jordan's face was in the grass. Nothing seemed to have hit him, and when everything settled, he peered up, thankful to see an unharmed Adam next to him. "You okay?"

 

Adam nodded. "What the fuck was that?"

 

"I don't know," Jordan moved to get up, but someone shouted.

 

"STAY DOWN!"

 

Jordan did as he was told. Were there more explosions coming? 

 

"Okay, now I'm scared," Adam said as he reached for Jordan's hand and threaded his fingers into his.

 

Jordan squeezed. "And you thought forgetting your pillow was going to be the worst part of your day."

 

"DANNY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

 

The pair turned their eyes to see Danny running toward the building where flames were now shooting from the roof.

 

"What the fuck is he doing?" Adam wondered and to his alarm, Jordan had gotten up to follow him. "HENDO!"

 

Jordan ran after Danny, mostly intent on stopping the striker, but there was a reason that Danny was a striker, and he outpaced Jordan easily.

 

He caught up with him at the glass doors which had blown out with the force of the explosion. He grabbed his arm.

 

"Fucking hell, Danny, you have to get back!"

 

"RUBEN IS IN THERE!" Danny screamed at him. 

 

"What?"

 

"He went back to change his boots!"

 

His dark cheeks stained with tears, Danny wrenched away from Jordan and pushed into the building.

 

"God dammit," Jordan breathed as he followed. 

 

Smoke filled the hallway and Jordan covered his nose and mouth with his hand, squinting his eyes as he pushed into the dressing room. The room was blessedly smoke free, but the explosion had knocked over tables and deodorant, car keys, and boots had tumbled out of the lockers.

 

"Danny..." moaned a voice and Jordan realized that a training table had fallen on Ruben and his clearly broken leg was trapped beneath it.

 

"Help me lift this off of him!" Danny screamed at him.

 

"Hold on," Jordan said as he tried not to look at the leg. There was a very good reason that he'd chosen football instead of medicine as a career.

 

The were able to move the bulky wooden table aside and Danny knelt next to Ruben.

 

"We have to get you out of here. They building is on fire."

 

"It hurts, Danny."

 

"I know, baby. We'll be as gentle as we can."

 

Jordan watched the pair and realized that these two weren't just good friends. They had been lovers at one time. Maybe even still were. He knew exactly how he'd feel if Adam were lying on that floor.

 

"I got his arms," Jordan said as he moved swiftly around to Ruben's head.

 

It was Ruben's left leg that was broken. It was the shin, so Danny maneuvered up to take hold of his thighs, apologizing the whole time.

 

"Hold on Ruben," Danny said. "You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

 

He repeated the mantra as Jordan backed out of the door, into the the thickening smoke. You're going to be okay, Jordan thought to himself.

 

They made it out the door. Sirens were screaming into the complex. The team had gathered at the far end of the pitch, and when they saw them emerge, Gary and Adam came running to help.

 

"Fuck," Gary said as he saw Ruben's leg. "You okay, Ruben?"

 

Ruben was pale. "I been better, Gaz."

 

Adam gave Jordan a look that said he was going to be getting a telling off shortly about running into a burning building.

 

They got Ruben to the far end of the pitch, safely away from the building. Jordan saw that several other players had some gashes from the debris, but no one looked seriously injured. Gary had taken off running to an ambulance that had pulled to a stop near the training pitch.

 

"We okay?" Jordan asked Wayne.

 

"Ruben was the only one unaccounted for," Wayne said as he looked away from the injured young man. “How is he?”

 

“It’s not good,” Jordan said. “He was trapped under a table when we found him.”

 

“What the hell is going on?” Wayne wondered under his breath as he watch firefighters stream into the building and police came to check on the team.

 

"I wish I knew," Jordan said as he watched flames shoot out of the roof of the building.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is in shock. Where can you find comfort on a day like this?

"Holy shit! Did you see what happened at the England training center today?" Cesc asked as he barged into Pedro's room.

 

"Gary texted me. Ruben's hurt pretty bad."

 

"I know, I got JT's text," Cesc said as he dropped onto the bed. "This is insane. Does anyone know what happened?"

 

"Someone planted a bomb in the kitchens, apparently. They think it was in one of the food deliveries."

 

"Was anyone killed?" Cesc asked as he peered over Pedro's shoulder to look at his laptop.

 

"Six people. Several other players were hurt and aren't going to be able to play. They're talking about canceling the match Friday."

 

"Damn," Cesc said. “I feel like we should be back in England. Like, our club mates need us.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Pedro said. “Cesar was talking to Eden on the phone and all the lads want to get back and check on Ruben.”

 

“They’ve got him in surgery. He’s out for at least months,” Cesc said. “JT is at the hospital sitting with Danny.”

 

"Danny?"

 

"Sturridge?" Cesc said and then rolled his eyes at Pedro's blank look. "Hello? They go WAY back."

 

"Ruben's living with Dom?"

 

"I know. Dom was in Newcastle visiting his grandparents. He's apparently on his way back."

 

"What happens when Dom runs into Danny at the hospital?" Pedro said, his eyes wide.

 

"I know, right?" Cesc said. "I mean, if you're going to sleep with more than one person you've got to keep your lovers straight."

 

"Like you're such an expert at it," Pedro said as Cesc had admitted Daniella walking in on his Sexy-Facetiming with Gerard.

 

"Okay, fine," Cesc admitted. "But I mean..."

 

Cesar and Marcos appeared and moments later, even Diego was sitting on Pedro's bed. He pretended he was playing games on his phone, but everyone knew he was just as worried about Diego as the rest of them.

 

"How long does it take to fix a fucking broken leg?" Marcos swore two hours later as their vigil had devolved into pacing and eating crisps that Cesc had unearthed from his suitcase. Diego and Cesar had claimed the bed where they were lying at opposite ends. Cesc had perched himself on the desk; Pedro was in the chair, and Marcos was on the floor.

 

"My mobile phone bill is going to be out of control," Cesar muttered as he'd been texting Eden nearly non-stop never mind regular check ins with JT.

 

“Quit sending Haz dick pics already,” Pedro said as he took the phone out of his hand.

 

“How many dick pics do you need?” Cesc wondered. “I mean...a dick’s a dick, right?”

 

“My dick is twice your dick,” Diego gave him a look.

 

“Your dick isn’t anything special,” Cesc said as he glanced at Diego’s crotch.

 

"Yes it is," Diego said. "You want to see it?"

 

"We've all seen your dick, Diego," Cesar kicked his leg before the over excited Brazilian could get his pants down. "It's a great big raging cock, alright?"

 

Marcos giggled and Diego pounced, wrestling the young winger to the floor. "You want to see my cock little boy???"

 

"Diego, stop sexually harassing Marcos," Pedro said with little conviction as Diego began to dry-hump Marco's hip.

 

Cesc tossed water over Diego's back and the striker turned on him. "Why you little...!"

 

Cesc let out a scream and catapulted off the desk as Diego came for him. He took off down the hall, screaming the whole way.

 

Cesar glanced at the open door. "I feel like maybe we should have done something to stop that."

 

"Cesc will run to Gerard and he'll fend off Diego for him," Pedro said as Marcos recovered his dignity on the floor.

 

Pedro's phone rang. "It's JT."

 

"Hello?" Pedro said as he switch to English. Marcos and Cesar crowed near so they could hear the prognosis.

 

"Ruben's out of surgery. Everything went really well. They think the nerve damage was minimal. He's looking at a 10-12 week recovery, but they think he's going to make a full recovery."

 

Pedro exhaled. "That's fantastic news, JT. Thanks for calling us."

 

"I'm assuming the rest of the lads are there with you."

 

"We've been sitting here all evening waiting to hear," Pedro admitted. 

 

"I told you guys, didn't I? Club before country."

 

"You could be right, JT," Pedro smiled at Marcos and Cesar as the conversation ended. 

 

"He's gonna be okay," Pedro said even though Cesar and Marcos had heard every word.

 

"Thank god," Cesar breathed as he was already texting Eden with the news.

 

It was nearly midnight and they were supposed to have been in their own rooms by 11. The group reluctantly departed after making sure that Diego hadn't actually killed Cesc. As predicted, Gerard had been able to step in on his behalf.

 

"JT is right, you know," Marcos said as he helped Pedro clear up the rest of the mess. "That team is our family."

 

"And you've only been there a few months. After a year, it's like...I can't imagine not being close to you all."

 

"Did you ever feel like that with another team you were on?" Marcos asked.

 

Pedro shrugged. "Barcelona was home for a long time. I think every team is different. But when you find one that feels like this...like Chelsea...you should stick around as long as they'll have you, you know?"

 

"Yeah," Marcos said with a smile. "Nite, Pedro."

 

"Nite."

 

* * * *

 

Jamie sat in the chair, unhappily waiting for them to finish powdering his nose. He'd always wanted to be a football pundit. No one knew more about the game than he did. He could sit and talk about transfers and formations in his sleep. His wife had banned him from talking about football at the dinner table. Football was his whole life.

 

But what he had most certainly not signed up for was today's broadcast. And hour long look at the terrorist attack on the England training grounds. No. This most certainly was not the job he had signed up for.

 

"We're ready for you in five," the director passed by his chair, handing him a sheet with the latest information. "Frank Lampard is calling in from New York. We're still trying to get ahold of Gerrard."

 

"It's 5 am in Los Angeles," Jamie reminded her.

 

"I know, but we've got five minutes set aside for him. Can you text him for us?"

 

"Uh, sure," Jamie said as he turned to his phone that was of course, in his hand. He was still in touch with Steven, though today...today was a day you just didn't have anything to say.

 

When he opened the messaging app, he realized he'd missed a called. Fernando. He pulled open the voicemail.

 

"Hey, Carra. I saw the news reports. This is terrible. You hate things like this...anyway, call me if you need to talk."

 

Jamie stared at the phone for a long minute. Fernando never called. Never. 

 

"Did Gerrard answer?" the producer flashed past again.

 

"Not yet," Jamie said as he quickly sent the text even as he realized his fingers were shaking.

 

* * * *

 

"I'm just horrified, really," Frank was saying to his cousin Jamie Redknapp who had on the stoic, serious face that reporters got when they were presenting horrific news and didn't want to show the fact that were just as freaked out as the viewers were. "Everyone here in New York is thinking about you all. The team is going to be wearing black armbands this weekend in memory of the victims. We're all just so shocked by this attack."

 

"Frank, you played with Ruben Loftus-Cheek at Chelsea. Have you spoken to him at all?" Jamie Redknapp asked.

 

"I've not had a chance. I know his family is with him and his surgery went well. Some of the lads at Chelsea have been keeping me up to date," Frank said. "He's a great young talent. We're hopeful that he's going to make a full recovery. I want to see him playing for Chelsea for many years to come."

 

"Well, as long as he doesn't break your scoring record," his cousin teased.

 

"We'll worry about that when he gets to 200," Frank chuckled.

 

JT watched the pundits all laugh with him, the joke perfectly breaking the tension in the studio.

 

Frank could always put a smile on your face when you needed it, JT thought as he turned off the TV and got up off the couch.

 

He needed to go to the gym. He needed to get out of his head. He needed to not think about this attack. About England. About Frank's voice on the TV. 

 

Who had Frank texted? It wasn't JT. JT had been texting all of the lads away at internationals. He'd stopped in to see Ruben in hospital this morning and talked to his mother who was worried sick about him. He'd made a statement on behalf of the club. But he'd not been in touch with Frank.

 

"You getting the kids today?" Toni asked as she appeared, fresh from her morning riding lesson.

 

"Uh...yeah, I can," JT said as he looked for his headphones. 

 

"You okay?" she asked, not for the first time since yesterday.

 

"Yeah, yeah, fine," he said. 

 

"Summer needs new trainers for PE. You mind running them over to JD Sports to get her some after school?"

 

"What?" JT asked. He didn't mean to ignore her. 

 

Toni was patient. "Summer? Trainers? After school?"

 

"Sure, sure," JT said, knowing Summer would remind him if he forgot.

 

"You want to just go out to dinner tonight? Take the kids to Nandos?"

 

"Then Georgie will want to go for ice cream."

 

"Well, I think we can manage it," Toni said. "Go for your run."

 

"Thanks, love," JT said earnestly as he crossed the kitchen to kiss her on the cheek.

 

Toni didn't say anything else as he departed. He was never sure if he was relieved or disappointed when she didn't ask too many questions.

 

* * * *

 

"Danny?"

 

"Yeah?" 

 

"Go home."

 

"I can't."

 

"Yes you can."

 

"I'm not leaving you here in the hospital by yourself."

 

"I'm not by myself. My whole family is here. Dom has been by. Half the staff at Chelsea have been by. Don't you need to get to training?"

 

"We're not training today. They're trying to decide if it's safe to even play at Wembley tomorrow."

 

"They're sending me home tomorrow."

 

"I know."

 

"My mum wants me to come home and live with them while I do my rehab."

 

"What do you want?"

 

"My leg not to be broken?"

 

"Can't help with that."

 

"I could use some more painkillers."

 

"I'll get the nurse."

 

"Danny?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"I love you."

 

"I love you too, Ruben."

 

* * * *

 

"We're not going to play? We're giving in to the terrorists and not playing."

 

"Hendo, they don't even know for sure yet who was responsible for it," Adam tried to calm him, but Jordan was pacing the small hotel room he'd been assigned at the England training camp.

 

They used to have roommates with England, which could be annoying especially if you had to room with Rio "the freight train" Ferdinand. After the entire team refused to room with him, they reconfigured the sleeping arrangements so everyone got their own room with a double bed.

 

More than a few rooms went un-slept in these days, but no one asked any questions. The problem was, however, that the rooms had a bed and not much else. 

 

Jordan kept banging his shin on the edge of the dresser as he paced. "It's what they want! They want us disrupted."

 

"Hendo, ten people are dead. We're already disrupted."

 

Jordan stopped in his tracks. He saw the sad eyes of his lover and sighed, the anger gone out of him. Adam was such as soft hearted person. It was one of the things Jordan liked best about him.

 

He crawled onto the bed. Adam was clutching his pillow with the Liverpool pillowcase on it and Jordan lightly tugged it away, replacing it with himself.

 

"We're safe."

 

"I know."

 

"We're safe."

 

Adam started to cry. "I was so scared. Everything exploded and then you went in the building and I thought...I thought you were never coming back out again."

 

"Oh Adam," Jordan held him tight. His wife had given him a proper telling off when he'd spoken to her last night. "You don't have to be the hero, Jordan!"

 

But he hadn't been thinking about being a hero. He'd seen Danny and he'd moved without thinking. But only Danny had known where Ruben was. They'd had to get him out...

 

"I know," Adam said as he sniffled. "I know you had to do it. I know it's you not to stand by when someone needs you. And I'm selfish to want you to not be that way."

 

"Ruben couldn't have gotten out on his own," Jordan said. "He could have died in there."

 

"I know. I'm really not mad at you. I'm just...I'm scared. What is this world we live in?"

 

Jordan dragged the blankets from the unmade bed up over them. "How about we just pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist for the rest of the evening?"

 

"Nothing out there but you and me?"

 

They'd played this game before. When the team had been down. When there'd been stress at home. What if we were the only two people in the world?

 

"Can we watch Captain America and each chocolate?"

 

"You know we can."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eden comes back from Internationals with a new friend and Dom wonders if he's lost Ruben

When Eden pulled up to the Cobham training ground the first morning back after the international break, Cesar was more than a little surprised to see Michy in the car with him. Cesar had been loitering in the doorway, waiting to see his lover. They'd both landed the night before, but Eden had insisted he was too tired to meet up last night.

 

The morning was bright with the crisp dew. Michy laughed at something Eden had said and was leaning across him as they crossed the car park to the training center.

 

Club v Country...it looked like country was winning.

 

Cesar ducked into the building before Eden could see him. Not that he was paying any attention, he was so wrapped up in Michy. Cesar had spent the entire week away thinking of Eden, texting Eden, wishing he could see Eden through everything happening back at home. Their home, London.

 

And apparently Eden hadn't been doing the same. Had he been lying around with Michy when answering his texts? Naked in bed, laughing at stupid Cesar and his stupid texts?

 

He knew that Eden and Michy had been friends long before the young striker had joined Chelsea that summer. Even knew that Eden had put in a good word with the club when they were considering buying him. But you did that for your countrymen. Hadn't Cesar and Juan just about beat down Jose's door to beg them to bring Cesc to the club? Sang the praised of Diego and Pedro when those transfers were on the cards? Of course they had. It was what you did for your brothers.

 

Had Cesar been too blind to see that it was more than just a little friendly help? Had Eden and Michy been lovers before they'd come to the club?

 

To be fair, Eden was pretty quiet in about what happened when he was away with Belgium. Cesar supposed he spent most of his time with his younger brother, Thorgen who was also a Chelsea player though he was on loan in Germany at Borussia Mönchengladbach. Cesar was too trusting. His mother had always said so.

 

"Carina, you trust everyone. Not everyone is worthy of your trust."

 

Cesar didn't like to think it. He believed that if you were good to people, they would be good to you in return. Greet everyone with a smile. An offer of help was always welcome. Loyalty would be repaid.

 

"What's the matter, Dave?" asked Cesc as he slammed his kit bag onto the bench in the dressing room.

 

Cesar glanced at the fuzzy headed Catalan and realized, as always, his emotions were all over his face. Cesc needed a hair cut.

 

He nearly said as much, but the door opened again and Eden and Mischy came in, laughing together.

 

"Ah," Cesc said which made Cesar even angrier and he stormed off to the bathroom.

 

Eden dropped his bad at the other side of Cesar's and glanced at Cesc. "They not have barbers in Spain??"

 

Cesc ran a hand through the unruly mop on the top of his head. "What? Daniella likes it."

 

"She's going to be braiding it for you, soon," Eden said as he tugged at one of Michy's braids and the striker laughed.

 

"I can give you the number of the guy who does my hair," Michy agreed. "You would look good. I think everyone on the team needs to grow their hair out, right Willian?"

 

The Brazilian looked up, his face that used to be full of easy smiles had gone sad since the death of his mother. The team had been trying to bring him back to life, but they all knew how close Willian was to his family.

 

"No," Willian said as he cracked a small smile. "I mean, Azpi would look ridiculous with his hair in dreads."

 

Cesar had just re-emerged from the bathroom and the whole room fell apart at the idea of Cesar with his tucked in shirts having his hair in dreadlocks.

 

Cesar realized the room was laughing at him and didn’t even know why, but it was exactly the last fucking thing he needed this morning.

 

He grabbed his kit bag and stormed back to the bathroom.

 

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Eden chuckled and Cesc shot him a nasty glare. “What’s wrong with you?”

 

“You,” Cesc said as he slammed his locker door and went to check on Cesar.

 

* * * *  
Dom let himself into the empty house and hated the quiet. Ruben had gone to stay with his parents for a few weeks while he was confined to a wheelchair, not even supposed to get up himself to use the bathroom. He wasn't allowed to put any weight on the broken leg. Dom knew it made sense because his family could look after him, but Dom was left feeling like he'd been cut out entirely.

 

With Danny at his bedside and visiting almost daily, Dom started to wonder if he mattered at all.

 

He wasn't stupid. He knew that Ruben's family didn't know anything about them being lovers. He knew that going over there and demanding to be recognized was exactly the wrong thing for Ruben right now who was facing a long, long road to recovery.

 

But Dom supposed it was more of the same. He didn't matter. Not really. He was a replacement for Danny at best. A convenience.

 

Ruben's mum had come over at the weekend and packed up a bunch of Ruben's stuff and asked him to forward his post. The woman had barely looked at him like he was the help rather than, at the very least, one of Ruben's best friends.

 

Dom grabbed a box out of the closet and started to fill it with all of Ruben's other stuff he didn't want to look at right now. His favorite mug- the South Park one, his Nike hoodie that was always on the couch, his extra stash of HP sauce which he had to put on everything.

 

Dom's phone rang and he looked to see it was JT.

 

"Alright, Skipper?"

 

"Hey Dom. Was wondering what you were up to this afternoon?"

 

"Uh," Dom said, wondering if he should bother lying about a non-existent social life. "Nothing, really."

 

"You golf, right?"

 

"Not very well," he admitted, but JT laughed it off.

 

"Well, then you'll fit right in. I got a foursome missing one with a three-o'clock tee time. Would you like to join us?"

 

"Uh...sure."

 

Was John Terry actually asking him to go golfing? With a group of his friends?

 

"Excellent. How about I swing by and get you? You have your own clubs?"

 

"Yeah," Dom said as his dad had bought him a set a couple of years ago when he'd seen a Sky Sports report that most footballers liked to golf in their spare time.

 

"Excellent. We'll do dinner at the club, after? My treat," JT said. "See you soon."

 

Dom hung up the phone and stared into space for a long moment. Then he looked at his watch and the torn track pants he was wearing and made a run for the bathroom to get ready.

 

JT pulled up in front of the house five minutes early. Dom was waiting int he front hall with his golf bag which he'd had to dust off. Oh please God could he not embarrass himself in front of John Terry?

 

"Ready?" JT asked with a chuckle as Dom emerged with his clubs. JT opened the boot of his Land Rover and loaded the bag in next to JT's much nicer set.

 

"I suppose. I had some lessons, but my handicap is pretty bad."

 

"No worries," JT said. "We all have to start somewhere. Some of the lads take it pretty seriously, but ignore them."

 

Dom wanted to ask who they were playing with, but he decided against it. He didn't want to seem like a pathetic fan boy.

 

"So, how's Ruben doing?" JT asked as he pulled onto the main road which would take them out of town.

 

"He's alright, I guess."

 

"You guess?"

 

"Haven't talked to him in a couple of days," Dom admitted. "He's staying with his parents so they can help him out. He's still in a lot of pain."

 

"I can imagine," JT said as he glanced at Ruben. "I thought you two were...pretty close."

 

Dom stared out the side window. Did JT know? He knew that JT had his share of same-sex lovers, but there was a world between having sex and having a partner, really. Some how fucking your teammates and living with them in the same bed were a world apart. "We're really good mates."

 

"Just mates?" JT pressed.

 

Dom finally looked over at him. "Apparently."

 

"Ah," JT said as he understood. Dom hadn't thought they were just makes but apparently Ruben had. "Maybe he'll come around once he's feeling better?"

 

Dom shrugged. Did he really want to have this conversation with his team captain and idol?

 

"You should talk to him," JT advised. "I mean, don't show up at his parents with a dozen roses and express your undying love or anything, but..."

 

Dom laughed at the thought.

 

JT grinned at him. "I'm just saying that from personal experience, that if you just let it go, if you just let things happen and hope for the best, they rarely do turn out the way you might have wanted."

 

"It started out easy," Dom admitted. "We were on the youth team together forever. It just kind of happened without any effort on my part, you know? We were together and then we moved in together and it was just all good."

 

JT smiled. "As much as we're not supposed to admit it as guys, if things just happened without any conversation about it, someone always expects more is going on that the other."

 

"I know," Dom said. "You...you knew about Danny and Ruben, right?"

 

JT nodded. "I was rather surprised that Danny was so quick to take the Liverpool transfer to be honest because of the two of them."

 

"I know. Ruben took it hard, but...well, we moved in together not long after. I thought he was over it, you know?"

 

"They never are," JT said as he pulled into the club. "They never are."

 

Dom tried to act like the valet took his clubs from him every day and no, it wasn't strange at all that the staff all greeted him and JT like they were old friends. Ha ha ha, yes, breaking in the new kids to a round of golf, ha ha ha...

 

Holy shit was that...

 

"Becks, I managed to round up a fourth," JT said as he greeted none other than David-mother-fucking-Beckham in the lobby. "David, you know Dominic Solanke, one of our fantastic young players coming up in the club, don't you?"

 

"Sure," David said even though Dom had to believe he was lying. David Beckham didn't know who some kid out of Basingstoke was. "You weren't bad with Vitesse last season."

 

"Seven goals," JT said like a proud father. 

 

Dom nodded stupidly. They did know who he was. Fuck, JT knew how many goals he'd scored. They...

 

"Don't look so shocked, kid," David said with a cheeky grin. "I do pay a bit more attention to football than my clothes."

 

JT laughed with him and Dom went six shades of pink. "Sorry. I used to memorize your stats when I was at primary school..."

 

"Right, he's buying the first two rounds of drinks later," David laughed and Dome went pinker, realizing he'd just called his idol old.

 

"Is he old enough?" pondered the fourth of the group as he approached.

 

"Joey fucking Cole," JT said as he pulled his old teammate into a hug. "How are things down in the lower American leagues?"

 

"Fuck off, I was the best player in that league this year," Joe said as he smiled at Dom. "Hey, kid."

 

Dom wanted to blurt out that he was nineteen thank you very much, but all he could do was shake Joe's hand like a well trained collie.

 

Dom was ever so thankful that his mum had insisted on taking him to buy some decent clothes to go golfing in as he realized that all three men were wearing very, very nice khakis and polo shirts. His weren't quite the same labels, but at least he looked smart in his own clothes. 

 

JT led the way out to the course. JT, Joe, and Becks were pretty good golfers, but Dom managed to hold his own. He wasn't good by any means, but at least he wasn't slicing his shots into the water hazards. Okay, at least he wasn't slicing all of his shots into the water hazards. Joe and David bet on a couple of drives, but neither of them seemed put off at all when Dom had to go running for his ball fifty yards off the fairway.

 

When you were a kid you day dreamed about shit like this. "Can you imagine if you could hang out with David Beckham, John Terry, and Joe Cole?" They used to ponder at the lunch table while trading up their football cards and plotting their own footballing careers. Hell, Dom still had to pinch himself that he played for Chelsea, never mind he was sitting down at the bar to have drinks with these three.

 

"So, Chelsea are doing alright this season," Joe commented as the bartender set pints of lager in front of them all. 

 

"Not bad, not bad," JT said even though he was unable to hide the smile that crossed his face.

 

"The papers can't quit talking about you not playing but you don't even really care, do you?" David asked JT.

 

JT shrugged. "You know I love to play, but I'm not getting much younger, and we we've got defenders playing as brilliantly as they are right now, it'd be selfish for me to want to be in the match and deny them they chance to shine."

 

"So, you're technically a player/manager now?" Joe asked.

 

"More or less. I've made it clear to Chelsea that I don't ever want to leave. I want to play, but I more don't want to leave."

 

Joe smiled. "No one wants to leave Chelsea."

 

"He's been doing great work with the youth teams," Dom chimed in. "He's always out at the matches when he's in town and the lads really appreciate the support."

 

JT smiled at Dom. "I know Chelsea gets a bad reputation for not bringing on the youth players, but we really do have a great youth system."

 

"You're make a lot of money developing those kids," David said. "People think that the youth team should be a pipeline to the first team, but that isn't always the goal. The premier league academies are developing the young talent to send all over the world, not just to our teams."

 

"We need more development of the young English players," Joe lamented. "How terrible are the national team right now?"

 

"We should be better," David agreed. His generation was supposed to be the golden generation to bring glory back to England, but they'd never managed better than the quarterfinals in any tournament. 

 

"Too many politics," JT said with a trace of bitterness. "Not enough football."

 

"The media doesn't help," Dom commented, parroting something his father always said. 

 

"You're not wrong," Joe agreed. "I think they're happier when we lose. They sure due seem to enjoy the headlines."

 

"Our youth teams aren't bad," David said. 

 

"We're not winning anything either," Dom said.

 

"You've qualified for the European championships next summer," JT said. "That's not nothing."

 

“Very true,” Joe agreed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I struggled today. Cesc and his Cheesey Poofs feature...

Dom got regular call ups for the youth teams for England. He was currently on the U21 squad, but hoped to make a senior debut before too long. Ruben had made the jump.

 

But then again, being on the senior team right now wasn't exactly a privilege. They were already trying to sort out when they were going to make up the World Cup qualifiers that had to be cancelled.

 

"Did they ever figure out who set those bombs?" Joe asked, having been a bit out of the loop in America.

 

"They arrested a few people. It doesn't seem to be any like...known terrorist group," David said. "Some people that had a grudge against England."

 

"We're not that bad," JT said with a cheeky grin as he signaled the bartender for another round.

 

"Crap, if they're going to start bombing us for every poor result, we're not going to have a team any more," Joe said and they all laughed.

 

And for a few lovely hours, Dom completely forgot about everything that was bothering him.

 

* * * *

 

Cesc skidded into the kitchen in his sock feet and tip-toed to the pantry. Just a few more feet...

 

"What are you doing, Papi?"

 

Dammit.

 

"Nothing, Princessa. Just getting a glass of water," he lied as he took a tumbler from the cabinet and filled it.

 

Lia climbed up onto the step stool and peered at it. "I want a snack."

 

"It's nearly time for tea," Cesc said the words he would have heard out of Daniella if he'd been caught in the pantry with a face full of cheesey poofs.

 

Lia made a faced, but accepted the drink of water he offered her. "I want to draw."

 

"Alright," Cesc said as they left the kitchen hand in hand and went to the play room. Lia sat at the table and Cesc brought over a pile of coloring books and the crayons.

 

"Papi, when can I start using the markers?" Lia asked sadly.

 

The house was decorated from top to bottom in white. Needless to say, Daniella held a strict no marker policy for anyone under the age of ten.

 

"Soon," Cesc promised vaguely. He handed over a Minions coloring book and took the Beauty and the Beast one for himself. Lia made him swap.

 

"I promise to be careful," she said pleadingly. "I won't take them off the table."

 

Cesc glanced at the large box of Crayola markers on the top shelf. What was the harm? They'd be sitting here at the table. He'd be watching her. And those things were washable, right?

 

"Alright," Cesc agreed. "If you're very careful."

 

Lia giggled in delight as Cesc got down the markers. The crayons were forgotten as colors were chosen. Cesc was carefully coloring in the picture of Minion Bob and his teddy bear, Tim when Capri came toddling in assisted by Joseph.

 

"Mama says we need to wash our hands for dinner," Joseph told Lia and eyed the table with the markers rolling around.

 

"You go," Cesc said. "I'll clear up."

 

The trio departed and Cesc scraped the markers into the box, not bothering to set them in their assigned slots. Who actually did that, anyway?

 

At dinner Cesc got a glare when Lia announced that they had colored with markers. 

 

"I was with her the whole time," Cesc muttered to Daniella. "She didn't make a mess."

 

And it was true that Lia's dress was still pristine...well, until she got tomato sauce all over it at dinner. But it was marker free!

 

However, when Cesc was busy putting Capri to bed, reading her a story about a mouse and a cookie, Daniella came storming into the room holding a pair of her white Jimmy Choos...

 

Her formerly while Jimmy Choos...

 

She just glared at him over the purple marked suede.

 

"I love you," he said helplessly, wondering how on earth Lia had gotten the purple marker out of the room without him noticing.

 

"Well, wait til you see your boot collection," she said as she spun on her heel and walked out of the room.

 

"My boots..."

 

Capri giggled at him.

 

Cesc sighed. Next time he'd just give her a handful of cheesey poofs.

 

* * * *

 

“Jordan, can I see you in my office?” Jurgen Klopp asked him after training.

 

“Busted,” Adam muttered to him even though neither of them had a clue what Jordan might have done to upset the manager. Usually Klopp was about as easy going as they came. Well, as long as you worked your ass off and did what he wanted. But he made it clear what he wanted from his players and he celebrated with them when thing were going well, especially as good as they’d been going this season.

 

Jordan showered and promised to text Adam later as he went to the manager’s office.

 

“What’s up?” he asked as he sat down in front of Klopp’s table full of football diagrams. They’d been trying to get him to use the iPad, but he liked his charts. Did he want to discuss formations?

 

“Danny Sturridge,” he said without preamble. “You know he’s been going to London nearly every evening after training to visit his friend who was injured in the explosion? I take it they’re very close?”

 

Well there was a loaded question if Jordan had ever heard one. “Uhm, yes. They played at Chelsea together and they’d remained close friends.” Jordan didn’t know how much Klopp knew about or approved of the players...extracurriculars.

 

“And you and he were the ones who rescued him?” Klopp clarified.

 

“Uh, yes. Danny went in right after the explosion because he knew Ruben was inside, but I followed.”

 

“Forever the captain,” Klopp said with a smile. “Jordan. I need you to talk with Danny. I would talk with him but he already feels as though I am...how do you say it….out to get him?”

 

Jordan didn’t disagree. “He’s…”

 

“Yes, yes,” Klopp waved away the explanations. “He is still not 100% from his injury and the last thing we need is to have him exhausted from long drives on a daily basis. I am not unsympathetic to the injuries to his friend, but we need him focused here.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jordan said honestly, knowing that he was more likely to get into an argument with Danny than fix anything. 

 

By the time he’d emerged from the manager’s office, Danny was long gone. Jordan sent him a text asking what he was up to and did he want to meet for a drink later?

 

Danny didn’t reply.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to Nandos.

"Okay, so after training we'll get your boys and take them to Legoland!" Michy said as he and Eden made their way to the training pitch. December was upon the team and they were gearing up for the long holiday period.

 

"Is Legoland even open this time of year?" Cesar asked as he fell into step with them. He'd realized in the past two weeks that if he wanted to talk to Eden at all, he pretty much had to do it with Michy around. He'd become his freaking shadow.

 

"What!?" Michy protested. "They can't close Legoland!"

 

"It's like 10 degrees out today. You're not seriously going to Legoland," Cesar said.

 

"I've never been to Legoland. I don't have any kids. I need kids so I don't look like an idiot at Legoland."

 

"Maybe you should wait for it to be warmer," Cesar logically pointed out.

 

Eden was laughing through all of this. "Maybe he can't wait, Cesar! Maybe the man needs his Legos."

 

"I need my Legos," Michy said with big eyes and Cesar could only shake his head. So maybe they were kidding. Why did all the jokes seem to be at his expense these days?

 

Cesar let the pair get ahead of him and was joined by Cesc who’s boots appeared to have a purplish hue. “What’s up wit the two of them?” Cesc asked as he watched Eden and Michy wrestle like a couple of puppies.

 

“I have no idea,” Cesar said as he couldn’t look at Cesc.

 

Cesc, for all his childish behavior, was not the idiot that most people assumed he was. It was, quite frankly, easier to let people think this. It saved him time and energy not to have to be responsible for things he didn’t really feel like doing. Did anyone ever ask Cesc to be in charge of anything? No. Look what had happened when they’d tried to make him captain of Arsenal? How bad had he fucked that up? He’d had to leave the country to avoid the aftermath and people still sent him hateful social media messages more than five years later.

 

“You really care about Eden,” Cesc said carefully as he gathered a ball from the touch line and dinked it toward Cesar who trapped it easily. 

 

Cesar shrugged. He knew how many of his Spanish teammates felt about Eden. That he was a self absorbed jerk and Cesar could certainly do better. Certainly do better to date a Spaniard, anyway.

 

“I suppose you’ve got two options,” Cesc said as they passed the ball back and forth.

 

“What’s that?” Cesar asked even though he knew the answers already.

 

“You either fight for what you want or you walk away from it. Some things are worth fighting for. Some things in life are not. The only way you’re ever going to be happy is if you learn to tell the difference.”

 

“You know what really gets on my nerves about it all?” Cesar blurt out.

 

“What's that?” Cesc asked as he bounced the ball up on his foot and then his knee where he held it for a moment.

 

“Right before the break, he told me that his wife was mad about us and that maybe we should cool things off.”

 

Cesc deftly rolled the ball down his shin and flicked it at Cesar who missed it. “And now this?” Cesc gestured to Eden and Michy who were now giggling with Diego.

 

“And now this,” Cesar said as he delivered the ball back to Cesc.

 

“You’re never going to make someone care about you if they don’t want to,” Cesc said gently. “And lowering yourself to think you deserve less than you know you do is only going to lead to resentment.”

 

“Did you ever love someone who didn’t love you back?” Cesar asked.

 

“Sure,” Cesc said. “And I’m not going to tell you that just getting over it is easy or even possible. But when you decide you’ve had enough, you can always give me a call.”

 

“You need a fuck buddy?” Cesar asked with a laugh.

 

“No. I need someone to come help me clean off all my boots,” Cesc lamented and then began to tell the tale of Lia and the Purple Marker.

 

By the time training started, Cesar was feeling a lot better. He didn’t have to lower himself to be something he didn’t want to be. And if Eden wanted to be with him, he’d come back.

 

And if he didn’t, well, he’d figure out how to survive that.

 

* * * *

 

“God, Hendo was on my case yesterday at training.”

 

“What for?” Ruben asked. The pair of them sat at a Nando’s near Ruben’s parents’ house more to get out of the house than because they were hungry. Though, seriously, who was ever not hungry for a Nandos? Just walking into the place you could smell the mouthwatering aroma of Peri-Peri chicken. Ruben always went for the Lemon Herb. Dom sometimes gave him crap about not wanting to try the spicier varieties, but seriously, how could you enjoy your chicken when your mouth was about to burn off. Besides, Runem loved the Lemon Herb flavor. He had even been known to pour the sauce over his mashed potatoes or macho peas.

 

He and Danny were sharing a plate of Lemon Herb wings and some hummus and peri-peri with wedges of pita bread. Danny never judged his sauce choices. He just went back for a second bottle of sauce when Ruben finished off the first one.

 

Ruben was up on crutches now, but sometimes Danny fussed over him more than his mother did.

 

“Apparently Klopp isn’t happy with me driving down to London every night,” Danny said as though the opinions of the manager were of little concern to him.

 

Ruben licked his fingers and didn’t reply.

 

Danny glanced at him. “You think he’s right?”

 

Ruben looked at him. “Danny, you know I love having you here. You keep me sane in that house. But…”

 

Danny sighed. “Don’t start on me.”

 

“What?” Ruben said. “You know he’s right.”

 

“I…” Danny started to argue, but then he realized he didn’t have anything to argue. Of course Klopp was right. It was downright irresponsible of him to be making the trip. “You aren’t even going to nag me?”

 

“When has nagging Daniel Sturridge ever gotten anyone anything other than a pile of grief?” Ruben asked as he shamelessly took the last wing and dunked it in a puddle of sauce.

 

Danny grabbed the two empty glasses of Coke and went to refill them. Of course he was right. Of course he shouldn’t be coming down. And Ruben.

 

Coke sloshed onto the table as he slammed the cups back down. 

 

Ruben didn’t comment.

 

“How is it that you can get me to do the right thing without saying a fucking word?”

 

“So you’re not coming down tomorrow?”

 

“You know I’m not. I’m going to go do some fucking extra work in the gym and let the manager know I’m serious so he’ll fucking start picking me again.”

 

“Seems like a good idea. Will I see you Monday?”

 

“Yes. We fucking have Monday off.”

 

Ruben smiled over his Coke and Danny just shook his head. 

 

* * * *

 

He knew they called him the Fer-nando. He was well aware of the effect he’d had on any number of his teammates over the years. 

 

But you could hardly lay the blame on his feet. It wasn’t like he set out to break hearts. It wasn’t like he wasn’t fully honest with all of them. “Look, this is fun, but at the end of the day, I go home to my wife and kids, got it?”

 

Sergio had been his first victim. They had been young and reckless back then. No one cared if they rounded a corner of the training center and caught them making out. Liverpool had been a total blast. Stevie and Xabi at it like rabbits in the showers. He and Danny caught up in each other. Flings with Jamie and whoever else happened to be handy.

 

But then he’d left for Chelsea and everything had gone downhill. Jamie was betrayed. Danny didn’t even talk to him for six months. No one but Juan really understood him. And then his form dropped and no one had any time for him.

 

Escaping to Italy had been a relief. And then being welcomed home to Madrid was like everything in his world was right again.

 

And now he was back to Sergio.

 

He knew what his Spain team mates said about him. He’d be blind not to see Iker glaring. Cesc giggling. Juan rolling his eyes. He knew.

 

But it certainly wasn’t going to change anything about him. He was still going to love who he loved and at the end of the day, go home to Olalla, Nora, Leo, and Elsa and be happy.

 

London always made him nostalgic he thought as the car pulled up to the curb.

 

“Fernando,” Jamie said with a wide smile as he stepped out of the black cab in front of the Sky Sports studios. “What are you doing here?”

 

“FIlming some promotions for La Liga,” Fernando said as he hugged his old team mate. His old Lover. “I didn’t know you’d be here or I’d have rung.

 

Lies, Jamie thought and smiled anyway. “I’m here all day if you’ve got time for a drink later.”

 

“I’ll text you,” Fernando said with a smile, not even sure he still had Jamie’s number.

 

Look. It wasn’t like he lied on purpose. Fernando just did not like confrontation. He got his anger out on the pitch. When he was at home, he wasn’t pleasant exchanges.

 

He sighed at himself as he signed in at the desk and was shown to the studio by an over eager intern who was a Chelsea fan. To his credit, the kid didn’t ask for a selfie. He’d probably been warned off it by his boss.

 

I should text him, Fernando thought. His flight back to Madrid wasn’t until seven. He’d done 1001 of these things. He’d be done here by two and have time to meet with an old friend for a cup of tea.

 

And maybe he did need to clear the air about a few things while they were at it. Jamie had anxiety in his eyes when he saw Fernando. 

 

Maybe the Fer-nado owed it to him to at least put the pieces back from the wreckage that he’d caused.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...didn't get much written yesterday so I just piled it into one post.
> 
> MWAH to the three of you still reading :)

“Torres is in town.”

 

JT looked at his phone and saw the text from Jamie. What the hell was Torres doing in town? He texted back as much.

 

“Sky Sports thing. We’re meeting for drinks.”

 

“?”

 

“Don’t.”

 

JT shook his head at his phone and set it on the dash. He was waiting for Summer to be done with her football practice and hadn’t felt like getting out of the car to talk to anyone. He loves to support his daughter, but the other parents hanging around the training pitch made him nervous. Let the coached do their jobs. He’d briefly thought about volunteering with Summer’s team, but then he realized he’d want to close training and then he’d be in a world of stress.

 

But walking across the parking lot ahead of him was none other than Frank Lampard. What was this, distant ex-boyfriend day? He sat there for a minute and watched Frank stare at his phone on his way into the building. The age old “If I act like I’m busy, if someone recognizes me they might leave me alone” trick he’d employed on numerous occasions. He’d been known to fake a phone call when an obnoxious fan had approached him in public. Sure, he knew that he owed his livelihood to these people, but some days you just wanted to go to Boots and buy some foot powder in peace.

 

Summer was one of the last girls out of the building which wasn’t unusual. She took forever to finish talking to everyone because she’d been at Cobham since she could walk. 

 

What was unusual was the fact that she was accompanied by Frank Lampard.

 

“Daddy! Uncle Frankie is here! He said Luna and Isla want to come play later! Can they come over!”

 

“Hey,” Frank said when he could get a word in edgewise. Fucking hell was he good looking, JT thought as Summer bounced around by his window.

 

“Yes, they can come over,” JT agreed and Summer let out a yelp of happiness as she ran back around the truck to get in.

 

“I hope it’s not an inconvenience. I ran into Summer while I happened to be talking with Luna on the phone and they’d arranged it before I even had a chance to say hello.”

 

An inconvenience. Did Frank really think that was how he saw him? “Nah, the kids and I were having a night in. Toni has a meeting with her horse breeder and we thought we might have a pizza and watch some movies. You’re more than welcome to join.”

 

“Georgie isn’t going to be happy,” Summer pronounced. Georgie was forever disgruntled that Frank didn’t have the common courtesy to have a son as well as a daughter for him to be friends with. Who wanted two girls, anyway?

 

Ilsa had also had a crush on Georgie for years and she liked to follow him around the house like a lost little puppy some days and it was about all the poor, beleaguered 10 year old could stomach.

 

Frank looked at JT for a long moment. I know I didn’t call. You know I don’t do long distance well. You know I’m married now, finally, at last, and I don’t want to make a mess of that. But you know I never stopped feeling for you the way I feel for you.

 

“About seven?” Frank said at last as Summer bounced impatiently.

 

“Seven.”

 

* * * *

 

“Athleti are looking strong again this season,” Jamie said, ever falling back on his football knowledge when he was nervous about something. They were sat in the usual pub across the street from the Sky Sports studios where everyone went for a drink. They were sat in the back corner on worn but clean red velvet chairs, getting a few curious looks from even the regulars. They knew Jamie, but was that Fernando Torres with him? It was always dangerous for too many sports reporters to be on one place. Speculation about a surprise move back to England for Torres was sure to be in the morning papers.

 

“It’s going to be tough to match last season’s Champion’s League run,” Fernando said, a glimmer of pain in his eyes. He’d wanted to bring that trophy home so badly.

 

“Well, and Real look strong again. At least you won’t get too much of a run from the English sides.”

 

Fernando smiled. “Everything seems to be back in order. Well, except Liverpool on top. Those lads really have it together this season.”

 

“Klopp is such a good manager. We had the players back in our day, just not the manager.”

 

“I liked Rafa,” Fernando defended their former manager.

 

“Oh, I did too. He’s an amazing tactician, but he’s not the man-motivator like Klopp is. He’s got those young kids barrelling out onto the pitch to win matches for him like he’s sending them out into glorious battle for queen and country,” Jamie said with a smile.

 

“He’s a bit like Diego,” Fernando said, mentioning the manager of Athleti. “He cares so much about winning that you want to win for him.”

 

“People underestimate the value of motivation in sports. Look at United. On paper, one of the most talented squads in the league, but they’re hanging out in mid-table.”

 

“What happened to Jose?” Fernando wondered.

 

The fell into a long conversation about Mourinho. It was like they hadn’t been apart. This was the way it used to be, Jamie marveled as Fernando gave his views on the Eva situation. In all honesty, sometimes Jamie thought he missed the conversations more than the sex. His wife rolled her eyes when he started to talk about football. Even his footie mad son was sometimes more interested in his Pokemon collection than the beautiful game.

 

No, no one liked to talk football with Jamie quite like Fernando did.

 

And Fernando was beginning to remember why he’d loved being with Jamie as much as he had. Maybe he’d been unfair the way he’d left. Maybe he needed to stop being the Fer-nado and start realizing that people had feelings.

 

He glanced at his watch. “Shit, I need to get to the airport.”

 

“There’s usually plenty of cabs in front of the office,” Jamie said. “I’ll get the drinks. You run.”

 

Fernando got up and smiled at Jamie. “This was nice. I’m glad we caught up.”

 

Jamie smiled back, in his heart realizing that things were really and truly over now.

 

But that was okay.

 

* * * *

 

“Something got into Daniel,” Adam said as Jordan pulled out of the lot after training. “I’ve never seen him so focused.”

 

“Klopp said he might give him the start this weekend, what with Firmino dealing with that lingering hamstring issue,” Jordan reported. Klopp often discussed team selection with his captain. Jordan didn’t really have a say, but he told him when things might change so that Jordan could be prepared to talk it over with the squad if need be.

 

“I thought sure he was going to fly off the handle after Klopp wanted him to stop going to see Ruben all the time,” Adam pondered.

 

Jordan shrugged. “No idea. And it’s not like Danny is one to share his feelings.”

 

“Unlike us who tell each other when we have paper cuts,” Adam grinned a cheeky grin.

 

“We really need some man-points,” Jordan pondered. “We are way too sensitive for our own good.”

 

“Whatever,” Adam chuckled. “The only people who get angry about men being too sensitive are people who could stand to be a little more sensitive themselves. At the end of the day, you take care of the people you love, and if…”

 

But Jordan never got to hear if what because at that moment, the car was slammed into head on by as swerving black sedan.

 

The next thing Jordan was aware of was a police siren in the distance. His head hurt and his right shoulder felt like it was on fire.

 

“Mate, you okay?”

 

“Shit, it’s Hendo and Lallana.”

 

“Hendo?”

 

Jordan opened his eyes to see a pair of concerned faces peering into the car on his right. 

 

“Mate, you okay?” one of the burly looking men who appeared to lift cars in his spare time asked. “Can you get out?”

 

“Adam?” Jordan said as he ignored the man and turned to his left. Slumped forward in his seat, a trickle of blood was rolling down the side of his face. “ADAM!” Jordan screamed and reached for him.

 

But people had appeared at the other side of the car and were opening the door. Adam let out a moan.

 

“Mate, we got him,” a man promised as his own door was opened and one of the men unbuckled his seat belt.

 

“There’s gas leaking,” he told Jordan. “We gotta get you out of here.”

 

“Adam!” Jordan yelled again.

 

“He’s okay!” someone shouted back.

 

He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay, swirled around in Jordan’s head. He felt dizzy and unsure as strong hands helped him sit down on the pavement, clear of the car that Jordan now realized was completely totaled.

 

A moment later, Adam was next to him, looking as dazed as he felt. “Jordan? What happened?”

 

“I don’t know,” he confessed as he reached for him, not even caring that dozens of onlookers were peering at them curiously, phones at the ready. 

 

“That car ran you down!” the burly man told them. “I saw the whole thing. I was out in front of the chippy here and you all came along, and suddenly that car turned right into you, I swear he done it on purpose. He got out and ran away!”

 

Jordan heard this but didn’t process it as he held on to Adam. They were okay, both of them were okay.

 

The police and fire brigade arrived in force. The car was seen to as the onlookers were herded away by the police for questioning so the paramedics could see to the injured pair.

 

“Anything hurt?” a kindly older woman asked Jordan as she peered into his eyes with a light.

 

“Shoulder,” Jordan said as the sharp pain reminded him of the impact. It must have been the force of the seat belt that left what he now realized was a nasty red welt on his collarbone.

 

“You both are lucky you were in seatbelts,” the other paramedic who was seeing to Adam said. “Welts like that...you’d have been through the windscreen.”

 

“We weren’t speeding,” Jordan protested as the limit on this road was 40 miles per hour.

 

“You weren’t, but apparently the other guy was. Your speed plus his adds up to the force of the impact.”

 

That was a lot of maths that Jordan hadn’t done very well in at school. His head pounded.

 

“Looks like a concussion and a sore shoulder,” the woman told him. “But we need to take you to hospital anyway to have a scan.”

 

It was a testament to how lousy Jordan, who hated doctors in general, didn’t even argue with her. Only reluctantly letting go of Adam’s hand to be loaded onto a stretched, Jordan closed his eyes and tried to stop the world from spinning.

 

* * * *

 

“Did you see the news?” was the first thing Frank said as JT met him and his girls at the door.

 

“What? No,” JT said as he’d been busy ordering pizzas and playing Mario Kart with the kids in the media room.

 

“Lallana and Henderson were in a nasty car wreck. They’re both going to be okay, they think, but the police are beginning to suspect that it was on purpose,” Frank said as JT made his way to the family room to turn on the TV which was nearly always tuned in to Sky Sports.

 

“...authorities have reported that the driver of the other car fled the scene and has not been located. Numerous bystanders have given the police a description of a young woman, aged 18 to twenty-five with blonde hair, of slight build, and about five foot six inches tall.”

 

“A hit and run?” JT said, trying to process what he was seeing.

 

Luna and llsa were staring, horrified at the pictures of Jordan’s smashed car, and Frank quickly herded them to the media room where they were swiftly absorbed into the rounds of Mario Kart. 

 

JT and Frank returned to the reports and absorbed everything that was known so far. Once the news began to repeat itself, JT hit the mute button.

 

“Glad the lads are okay at least,” Frank said, seeing how shaken up JT was.

 

“First the bombing and now this,” JT said.

 

“You can’t think the two are related, can you?” Frank asked, the mere thought of it making his stomach turn.

 

“What...no...I was just saying that it was starting to get a little scary out there,” JT said, but once the idea was planted, there wasn’t any denying that it could, possibly be true. He went to the bar and poured out two healthy measures of whiskey.

 

“Who hates England’s national team this bad?” Frank said as he accepted the drink and the pair of them sat down on the couch to watch.

 

JT’s phone was on the coffee table, and when he picked it up, he realized he had a dozen messages from teammates and former England colleagues all alerting him to the accident. He sent one to Danny Sturridge, asking him to let him know if he heard from Jordan and Adam and if everything really okay. He set the phone back down, on silent, and turned to Frank.

 

“You don’t suppose any of this has anything to do with Big Sam getting sacked?”

 

“You think?” Frank pondered for a moment. It was no secret that some people had been upset when Sam Allardyce had been sacked. Yeah, sure, he’d done illegal stuff, but in the minds and hearts of some of the more, shall we say passionate fans of the English National Team, winning was all that mattered.

 

They chatted through the whiskey until the pizza arrived. The kids abandoned the games to join them for dinner. JT was happy to see that Georgie seemed perfectly happy to be playing with the group of girls and Ilsa appeared to have out grown her crush. Well, at least she was being a bit less Ginny Weasley in The Chamber of Secrets about it.

 

Danny texted JT back after dinner to say that he’d spoken to Jordan and both of he and Adam were being kept overnight for observation due to concussions, but it was more precautionary than anything.

 

“Well, thank god for that, anyway,” Frank said. He knew both men well and it was going to be a big blow for Liverpool to miss both of them for even one match.

 

“I’m glad we’re not playing them this weekend,” JT mused as he and Frank sat back down in front of the news with bottles of beer. “The team playing for their fallen captain?”

 

“And if you should happen to win, you’re the assholes who beat the time whose captain was just in a terrible car accident,” Frank chuckled.

 

“Right?” JT laughed. 

 

They were sitting closer on the sofa now. JT was gazing at Frank. It had been ages since they’d been together. Not since JT had been in America that summer on the tour when Frank had come to Minneapolis to see him.

 

“I miss you,” JT said quietly. The kids were just in the next room. They shouldn’t even be sitting this close let alone any of the things JT was contemplating. 

 

Frank smiled. “I miss you to.”

 

JT toyed with the edge of Frank’s well worn tshirt.

 

“Can I be honest?”

 

“I’m not sure if I want to hear this,” JT said and meant to be teasing, but he thought he could hear his own pain in his voice.

 

Frank’s face softened. “It’s….just….I let myself forget you when I’m in America.”

 

“You do?” JT said. He never forgot Frank. Never. Never a minute in the dressing room when he was wishing Frank was still there. Never a minute on the pitch. Every time he caught sight of Oscar in the number 8 jersey, he had to remind himself again that the skinny Brazilian wasn’t his Frank.

 

“I have to,” Frank said as he looked down. “If I let myself think about you, I’ll think about you all the time. I’ll be miserable because you’re not around. Whenever any of my teammates does something strange, you’re the first person I think to tell. When the manager is being an ass, I think about that time we left sushi in the bottom of AVB’s desk and he didn’t find it for a month. Our children are playing in there like they were meant to always be friends. We just...fit….” When Frank looked up, there were tears in his eyes. “I have to forget you. I have to ignore your calls and texts, because if I let myself think about you, I’ll fall apart.”

 

JT pulled him close and they let themselves kiss for a long moment, until a shout from the other room made them spring apart like they’d been scalded.

 

When they realized that it was just Luna protesting something about the game, they both let out an unsteady chuckle and moved back.

 

JT drained his beer. “Are you...are you back in London for the winter?”

 

Frank nodded. “My contract is up with New York. I don’t know what I’m going to do next.”

 

“Please stay in London.”

 

“Now you sound like the girls,” Frank tried to tease, but it fell flat.

 

“Frank, I can’t have you forgetting me again.”

 

Frank smiled. “I don’t want to forget you again.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom's heartbreak

Dom came home late and was surprised to see Ruben’s car in the drive. When was the last time he’d even had a text from his roommate? The rest check had cleared this month, so Dom wasn’t raising too much of a fuss, but…

 

He opened the front door and nearly ran into Ruben’s sister. “Hi.”

 

“Oh, hey Dom,” she said, and Dom couldn’t remember the girl’s name to save his life. She was at university in Leeds and Dom had only met her a few times. “Ruben just wanted to come and pick up a few more of his clothes and things.”

 

“He doesn’t have much left here,” Dom commented in an almost casual manner.

 

“It’s is a bit like you’ve got the place to yourself.

 

Dom moved down the hall that lead to Ruben’s bedroom and found him leaning on a pair of crutches, digging through a dresser drawer.

 

“Hey,” Dom said as he stood in the doorway, making no move into the room to greet his...friend? They’d passed in the hallway of the training grounds a few times in the last month, but they’d yet to have a conversation. Ruben’s phone had been destroyed in the bombing and as far as Dom knew, he’d not gotten a new one. At least he’d not contacted Dom.

 

“Oh, uh, hey,” Ruben said and didn’t meet his eye. “Did I leave my Nike hoodie in the laundry room?”

 

“I’m not sure I’ve seen it,” Dom said even though he knew it was buried in the couch cushions.

 

Why haven’t you called? Why have you been sending your family to pick your things up when you knew I wouldn’t be home? How did we go from lovers to strangers and I didn’t even fucking do anything to deserve this?

 

“Hey, found your sweatshirt,” Ruben’s sister appeared with the missing garment in her hand. “Do you want any of the X-Box games?” Dom backed out of the way to let her in the room.

 

“Nah,” Ruben said as he closed the drawer.

 

They’re mostly fucking mine, anyway, Dom wanted to scream, but instead turned down the hall and to his own room. They never used to actually sleep together. Both of them were large men who liked their space in a bed, though arguments were frequently had as to whose bed they were having sex in and therefor who was likely to have to change their sheets.

 

Dom’s bed was neatly made, just like his mother always made him do. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his hands. This was really over. 

 

He could do one of two things. He could sit here and wait for them to leave as he knew Ruben was unlikely to do much more than just wave on his way out. Or he could go and confront it. He could demand to know why he was being treated like he’d been cheating or something equally awful.

 

You’re the one cheating, Dom thought as tears formed in his eyes. I know Danny’s been down to see you. I know Danny’s been welcome at your mother’s table. Maybe they weren’t having sex, but wasn’t the emotional betraying far worse than the physical?

 

“You left your phone in the kitchen,” Ruben’s sister said as she was passing the doorway. She smiled at Dom on her way past, a laundry basket full of clothes in her hands.

 

Dom scrubbed at his eyes and moved to his bathroom, locking the door behind him.

 

No. He doesn’t get this from you. He doesn’t get to see your pain. If he wants to act like we weren’t even best friends well, fuck him.

 

He heard the crutches stop in the hallway by his door. He waited, half of his heart wishing Ruben would call out to him. Apologize for not being in touch. Promise to do better. Invite him over soon…

 

But the crutches moved away and Dom sank to the floor, in too much pain to move any further.

 

* * * *

 

“You look like hell, Ads.”

 

Adam slowly opened his eyes to see Jordan sitting in a wheelchair by his bed. He cracked half a smile. “You don’t look much better, bro.”

 

Both of them, well, quite frankly looked like they’d been in a head-on collision. There were scrapes on their faces and arms from the glass, and Jordan’s left arm was in a brace, badly sprained by the airbag deploying. All things considered, however, both of them were happy to be headed home with nothing worse than a concussion.

 

Jordan got out of the wheelchair, only sitting in it because the nurse had made him. Adam pushed himself up in the bed, and Jordan gripped his hand, the glass window the only thing keeping him from climbing into bed with him and holding on for dear life.

 

“That scared the shit out of me,” Jordan said as he started to tear up. “For a moment when I looked at you, I wasn’t sure if you were going to be okay. I was so scared.”

 

Adam squeezed his hand. “Now, stop that before I start to cry too.”

 

Before they could really get going the door swung open and most of Liverpool’s first team came herding in, much to the dismay of the nurses. Alberto Moreno led the pack, carrying two bouquets of roses. “Of course we found the two of you in the room together.”

 

“Are you okay?” asked Phillippe, crawling up on Adam’s bed like a concerned toddler. “We saw the news. It looked horrible.”

 

Adam put his arm around the young Brazilian. “It was pretty horrible. But we’re okay.”

 

“He slept over at my place last night because he was having nightmares,” Lucas said affectionately. “My wife was not best pleased.”

 

“I wanted to sleep in the bed but she kicked me out,” Philippe pouted as he cuddled with Adam.

 

“You’re not coming home with me,” Adam said.

 

“We need to get him a dog,” Jordan said as he patted Phillippe on the head.

 

“He is a dog,” Alberto said as he set the flowers down.

 

The rest of the team crowded around the bed, most of them just happy to see their captain in one piece. They wanted to hear the tale.

 

“So I guess you’re going to miss out on the match this weekend,” Danny said.

 

“At least two weeks,” Jordan said with a sigh. ‘We both got concussions.”

 

“Did you slam your heads into each other?”

 

They all laughed. Even as it hurt Jordan’s ribs to laugh, he couldn’t think of anything that made him feel better than to be here with his teammates, knowing that he and Adam were going to be okay.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fresh start for Dom and a homecoming for Frank.

“What is this?” Jamie asked as he took the piece of paper from his producer. He was back in the makeup chair getting ready for the week’s pre-match show.

 

“They’ve arrested someone in the Henderson/Lallana accident.”

 

“Who was it?” Jamie asked as he scanned the paper. As he read, his jaw dropped. “You have got to be kidding me.”

 

“I wish I was. She confessed.”

 

“Holy shit,” Jamie said. “Was it connected to the bombings?

 

“We’re not sure yet,” she said as she hurried away.

 

Gary Neville walked in. “Did you…?”

 

“I know.”

 

“Mate, when the WAGs start turning on us, we’re all going to be dead,” Gary sat down next to Jamie, his makeup already done.

 

According to the paper, the woman who’d run into the car was an ex girlfriend of Adam Lallana. They’d searched her social media accounts and realized that she belonged to a group of other former partners of footballers who vowed revenge on them for breaking their hearts. Basically, the mantra of the group was “If we can’t have them, no one can.”

 

“I got a lot of ex girlfriends,” Gary said, looking pale.

 

“Thankfully, I’m married to my childhood sweetheart,” Jamie chuckled nervously.

 

“Yeah, but you got your share of exes.”

 

“I don’t think Fernando Torres wants me dead.”

 

“David Beckham used to want me dead,” Gary said with a wink as he got up to head to the studio. 

 

Jamie got his nose powdered and followed him. It seemed that today’s talk about the continued demise of Manchester United and the likely sacking of Jose Mourinho if they failed to beat West Ham this weekend was going to shift into an hour long talk about the accident.

 

Jamie wasn’t sure he really wanted to get into this conversation, even though he did secretly love the show, Footballer’s Wives, he wasn’t prepared for that kind of thing to become his reality.

 

* * * *

 

“See?” JT said as he tried to bring the mood up in the dressing room. No one could stop talking about the woman, Amy Carter, who’d been arrested for smashing her car into Adam and Jordan deliberately, thus exposing what was beginning to look like a vast conspiracy against footballers. 

 

“See what?” Gary asked, a little paler than his usual English pasty.

 

“If you’d all just stick to screwing your teammates, these kinds of things wouldn’t happen.”

 

There was a good natured chuckling around the room, but some of the younger lads looked honestly nauseous over the whole thing.

 

Dom glanced across the dressing room at JT. “I dunno, I suppose you could be enough of a dick to piss off a teammate bad enough that they might want to see you off, too.”

 

That made the room go silent as everyone watched Dom slam his locker and leave the dressing room.

 

“Ruben dumped him?” muttered Cesc to Pedro who was seriously falling down in his gossiping duties.

 

Pedro shrugged. He’d not talked to Ruben much since the accident, but on reflection, Dom had been pretty quiet since the incident and he’d heard that Ruben was living with his parents and that Danny Sturridge had been visiting quite a bit.

 

“Pretty cold hearted of him to just ditch Dom like that,” Cesc said as he adjusted his Hello Kitty shin guards. “Dom was devastated when he was hurt and then he just blows him off?”

 

“Maybe if he’d do more blowing Ruben wouldn’t have left him?” Diego offered his wise source of wisdom.

 

“Gross, Diego,” Cesc threw at him, though he wondered about the truth of it. He wasn’t thinking that you had to provide sexual favors to get people to like you, but you could sure distract the hell out of them with a well placed tongue.

 

Cesc made his way out to the practice pitch and found Dom jogging around the edge of the pitch. He fell into step with him. “You doing okay?”

 

“Sure,” Dom said with no conviction whatsoever.

 

“Men can be real assholes. I mean, ask my wife,” Cesc said and tried to get a smile out of Dom.

 

“You know, it’s not that he doesn’t want to be with me that hurts. I can deal with that, you know? What hurts is that he he couldn’t even get the balls to tell me about it,” Dom spilled out his heart even though he barely knew the effusive Catalan.

 

“I get you,” Cesc said. “I mean, I know that I’m the kind of person who makes jokes rather than ever talks about my feelings, but you’re right. It was pretty shitty of him.”

 

Dom took a breath. “I was upset for a while, but now I just think I’m angry.”

 

“You should be,” Cesc agreed. “Hell, I’m pissed at the guy. You want me and Diego to get up a posse and go break his other leg?”

 

Dom chuckled and really did appreciate the thought. His teammates had his back even if his supposed boyfriend didn’t. “I’ve been golfing with JT several times.”

 

“Yeah?” Cesc said as he, himself, wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near a golf course.

 

“It’s been nice really,” Dom said. “I’ve started to feel like one of the grown-ups for a change if that makes any sense.”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Cesc said. “When I was at Arsenal, I was such a kid. It was alright when I was sixteen, seventeen, but then I was twenty-three and still being a child.”

 

“You are still a kid,” Pedro reminded him as he jogged up. “You who your wife had to ban from buying biscuits at the grocery store.”

 

Cesc grinned. “Those were for the kids. But seriously. I felt like when I went to Barcelona I was a grown up, finally. I was spending time with Leo and Geri and their partners and kids rather than falling out of clubs with Nick.”

 

“I think I’m going to get my own place,” Dom said. “The bachelor pad with a roommate...well…’

 

“New place, new start,” Pedro nodded encouragingly. “There’s a flat up for sale in the place I life. It’s just a one bedroom on a lower floor, but It’s there on the river. You should come and have a look at it after training.”

 

“Field Trip!” Cesc announced. “Oh my god, you’re going to need furniture. Can we go to Ikea? I want to go to Ikea. Daniella never lets me go to Ikea. We could get meatballs. Oh my god.”

 

Dom was laughing at Cesc who espoused the virtues of the Swedish meatball. How could today have gone from abject despair to house hunting with Spaniards.

 

Somehow Cesar ended up tagging along as he lived just down the street and wanted to check out the place as well. He had a whole herd of Spaniards following him and the listing agent around the flat, oohing and ahhing over granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

 

“Jo Jo would have used subway tile here,” Cesar, a fan of “Fixer Upper” said. “But this isn’t really a shiplap kind of place.”

 

“French doors,” Pedro pointed out.

 

Dom was unsure at first. It was a nice place and the Spaniards were all on a lot bigger salaries than he was. But when the agent gave him the price and a general idea of how much the repayments would be if he put it on a mortgage, Dom realized he could more than afford the place. And, if things went according to plan, he would be making a lot more money in the near future. The agent also let him know that her agency could help him rent the place out if he got a transfer or loan to another team, so he could even keep the place if he moved.

 

“This place is cool,” Cesc said happily as he peered out over the Thames. Turning back to Dom he said. “I see the big screen TV over there and all of us sitting on the couch here to watch El Classico.”

 

“I need to talk to my Dad, but he’s been bugging me to make an investment,” Dom said with a smile as he took the agent’s card.

 

“I think it’s perfect for you,” Pedro said with a smile. “We can carpool to training!”

 

Dome laughed. There was going to be so much life without Ruben. Maybe getting dumped would turn out to be one of the best things that even happened to him.

 

* * * *

 

“Did they check and see if Elen is in that hate group?” Frank asked as JT picked him up outside his Chelsea home after training.

 

JT laughed, “You know Vanessa is probably the founder.”

 

“Gah, what happened to her?” Frank asked, remembering Wayne Bridge’s ex who’d gone slightly insane and accused JT of all manner of things that JT’s lawyer had not so subtly suggested she retract.

 

“I am thankful to say I have no idea,” JT shuddered. Vanessa was the last woman he’d made the mistake of having an affair with. Toni had sat him down after all of that had blown over and patiently explained to him that while she didn’t really care what he got up to, he really need to stop doing shit to get himself in the papers. The kids were getting older and she was tired of being embarrassed by him. So could he please quit having affairs with emotionally unstable psycho hose beasts?

 

They drove to a hotel south of the river with an underground car park and a discreet staff. Frank went to the desk to check in and JT met him up at their usual suite. After a passionate hour of lovemaking, the lay in a sated heap, limbs intertwined as they watched Sky Sports news.

 

JT ran his fingers along Frank’s shoulder, tracing around the mole. “It’s been months but it feels like yesterday.”

 

Frank smiled. “It’s always like coming home to you.”

 

“I was mad at you,” JT admitted, though he’d told himself he was never going to. Something about this moment made it the right thing to say. “I hated you for being able to leave me.”

 

“I wasn’t, though, was I?” Frank said, not hurt by his words. “I always come back to you.”

 

“You do,” JT said as he kissed the mole. “I feel for some of the young lads. I thought sure Ruben and Dom had found something good.”

 

“Ruben was always in love with Danny,” Frank said as he laced his fingers into JT’s and pulled them to his lips for a kiss. “When Danny showed back up after the accident, Dom was done for.”

 

“Did I tell you he’s moving out. Pedro says he didn’t even tell Ruben. He’s bought a flat and he’s just having his stuff moved out of the flat they share. The lease is up next month.”

 

“Ruben’s not even living there anyway,” Frank said.

 

“Maybe I should talk to him,” JT pondered as Frank began to suck on his fingers.

 

“Ever the captain,” Frank said between fingers.

 

“Well, you know,” JT said as he turned the TV back off. “Someone needs to tell these idiots that if they’re going to sleep with their teammates, they can’t do a runner unless they’re planning to transfer to another team.”

 

“I hear Manchester is lovely.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gary Neville has a small penis

“Oh my god,” Cesc vibrated as Dom pulled into the Ikea lot. “Now. They deliver, so we just need to pick out all of the furniture we need. Oh my god and we’ll need throw pillows and dishes and…”

 

From the back seat, Pedro and Cesar chuckled, having literally no idea what they were in for. Dom parked next to the exit and the four of them piled out of the car. Cesar and Pedro thought this would be a fun day out. 

 

Cesc had a plan.

 

“Okay,” Cesc said as he handed out pencils, measuring tapes and notepads. “Dave, you’re in charge of measurements. Your notebook has all of the dimensions of the flat. You need to be sure we don’t get anything that isn’t too big for the spaces we have.

 

Cesar opened the book and indeed found full dimensions for the flat in both inches and centimeters. 

 

“Pedro? You’re in charge of the color pallet. If we decide to go blue in the bedroom make sure we are consistent,” Cesc handed over a color chart.

 

“Now. Dom. What are your thoughts on furniture building? We can DIY or we can pay them to come and build stuff? Personally, I like to make it myself.”

 

“Uh...yeah, yeah, I’m good with that.”

 

“Excellent,” Cesc made a notation. “Now, I think we should work the upstairs for a couple of hours, break for some meatballs, and then we can hit the marketplace.”

 

Pedro sent his wife a text: “Don’t wait dinner.”

 

Cesc had decided that Dom needed to start fresh with a new bed and everything. They selected a king sized bed and matching accessories, a living room suite, and an island for the kitchen. Cesar decided not to tell anyone he’d been horrible at maths at school and hope for the best as he agreed to all the measurements.

 

They also realized that Pedro was slightly color blind when he approved maroon sheets to go with the kelly green duvet cover and he was stripped of his duties and sent to find white hand towels for the bathroom.

 

“Honestly,” Cesc shook his head as he found some striped navy and white sheets instead. “These are a good thread count. Life is too short to sleep on cheap sheets. Now, you want a couple sets the same color or do you like a variety when you change them every week?”

 

Dom didn’t want to admit that his sheets only got changed when he had sex on them. He was wondering when he might next change his sheets. “Uh, matching is good.”

 

“Cool,” Cesc said as he tossed two sets in the overflowing cart. Cesar was behind them with another that was already packed. “Alright. We need to think about curtains.”

 

Cesc barged ahead. Dom looked at Cesar. “Would he notice if we left?”

 

“Yes,” Dom said. “Who would he push around?”

 

Dom nearly passed out when he saw the total, but Cesc waved away his concern. “Please. My wife spend more than that in 20 minutes at Harrods.”

 

He arranged for the delivery and the weary shoppers piled into the car.

 

“Cesc?”

 

“Mmm?” Cesc said as he poured over his list one last time.

 

“If the football thing doesn’t work out, you have a future in interior design.”

 

* * * *

 

“Dom moved out,” Ruben said. When he looked up at Danny, he was dazed.

 

“Moved out? Of the place you guys were sharing? When was this?”

 

“I don’t know. My sister went over to grab something and she said all of his stuff is gone and there’s a note on the kitchen counter saying he’s not going to renew the lease.”

 

They were sitting in Ruben’s parents’ house, watching TV.

 

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Danny asked with a frown. “You think he might have mentioned it.”

 

“Uh...we don’t talk much.”

 

Danny looked at him. “He’s your roommate, and…” Danny left it open, knowing Ruben’s mom was in the house somewhere.

 

“Well...we were.”

 

Danny gave him another look. 

 

“I don’t know. After the accident and....shit.”

 

Danny shook his head. “Dude, I know we’re not the touchy feely type, but you gotta talk to him.”

 

“Well, he just bailed on our flat, so maybe I don’t own him anything.”

 

Danny tried to give Ruben the look that had gotten him to stop coming down every day and had recently earned him back his starting spot for Liverpool, but Danny wasn’t nearly as good at it as Ruben was. Ruben just sat and sullenly watched the episode of The Walking Dead that was on the TV and didn’t talk to Danny again for half an hour.

 

* * * *

 

“So, Gary, do you think the rest of the England National Team needs to be concerned about their safety right now?” asked Jamie Redknapp who was anchoring that evening’s discussions.

 

“I think they need to be aware. While the woman behind the crash that injured Lallana and Henderson was caught and is going to to jail, the police have still failed to discover who is behind the bombings and have found almost no information on this network of unhappy exes,” Gary said, but Jamie Carragher let out a sigh. “Carra?”

 

“Look,” he said. “We’re making out that every former partner of a footballer is crazy. That’s just not fair. There are some lovely women, and, I might add, men out there who have been with footballers who have gone on to live perfectly normal lives.”

 

“You do make a fair point,” Redknapp said. “I’d hate to think that all of my ex-partners wanted me dead,” he laughed but Gary didn’t look amused.

 

“I’m sure some of them are perfectly sane, but, as we’ve seen, even ones that seem perfectly sane can be crazy underneath,” Gary said. “Have you seen that online message board?”

 

“Are you just mad because that one person posted that your, uhm, manhood was lacking?”

 

Jamie Redknapp burst out laughing and Gary was not amused. The producer quickly signaled for commercial and the camera lights went off.

 

“You are such a fucking asshole!” Gary yelled.

 

“Oh, suck it up, Neville. Everyone has seen that post. It was on the front page of the Sun,” Jamie Redknapp laughed, and Carragher was about ready to fall off his chair from laughing so hard.

 

“I do not have a small penis,” Gary muttered as he stalked off the soundstage.

 

The producer made him come back for the final segment of the show, but as soon as it was over, he was on his way to the door.

 

“Neville!” Jamie Carragher chased after him. “Mate, come on. We were only kidding. Let me buy you a pint.”

 

“Me and my tiny penis need to get home.”

 

Jamie caught his arm and pulled him to a stop. “Gary.”

 

They were in a quiet corridor just down from the studio.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gary reveals his problems

“Hey, come on. We were joking,” Jamie said as he tried to get Gary to look at him. “I know it shouldn’t be a funny thing, but, well, it is kind of funny.”

 

But Gary looked more upset than the penis comment. “Do you have any idea how many exes of mine are out there?”

 

Jamie shrugged. He knew most footballers had their share. “No. Why?”

 

“Dozens,” Gary said. “And more than a few one night stands that didn’t take being stood up too well if you know what I mean.”

 

“Have you...like, have you been getting threats?” Jamie asked, concern on his face. “Gaz, what’s happened?”

 

Gary got out his phone, and immediately opened an email. “This.”

 

“You thought you’d seen the last of me, but you’ve not seen anything yet. Lallana got off easy. You won’t.”

 

Jamie went pale. “Gary! You’ve got to take this to the police!”

 

“To do what? They’ll never find anything. It’s from some throw away gmail account. She probably sent it from a public computer.”

 

Jamie shook his head. “You’d be surprised how many idiots send that crap from their own phones. That’s how they caught Lallana’s attacker. She had the email account on her phone.”

 

“I can’t,” Gary said again. “I...I don’t want this getting out, you know? You know the minute I walk out of the police station the press will be all over this. They’ll have a story before the police even get around to checking who the email is registered too.”

 

“I know where you’re coming from,” Jamie said, “But you have to. Look, I’ll go with you. They can go ahead and speculate about me all they want. My wife knows it’s all bollocks, anyway.”

 

“You’d do that?” Gary asked. 

 

“Sure. We can even tell them it was me that had a concern. So even if they do run a story it’s going to be complete garbage,” Jamie offered. 

 

Gary smiled. “Thanks, Jamie. You’re a good mate.”

 

Jamie smiled. “I have my moments.”

 

* * * *

 

“I don’t know why you don’t just move in with him,” Jordan’s wife had grumbled at him that morning when Adam had pulled up in front of the house to collect him for training.

 

“What? My car got totalled. I need a lift,” Jordan had defended. “You don’t want me taking your car to training!”

 

But the truth of the matter was that the insurance check had come through, never mind the fact that Jordan could have easily just gone to the nearest car dealer and written a check for anything they had on the lot.

 

“How late will you be tonight?”

 

“Uh,” Jordan said as he and Adam had talked about going to a movie later. “Not late. I’ll be home to do the school run.”

 

He was going to have to cancel with Adam. His long suffering wife had put up with a lot from him. She had to know about him and Adam. Hell, there were entire websites devoted to them. Those websites knew more than Jordan was quite frankly comfortable with.

 

And it had been Adam’s ex who’d run into them. Who else in these online communities wanted to hurt them? What could they do to stop it?

 

“You look terrible,” Adam said as he reached to squeeze Jordan’s hand as he slid into the front seat of the Land Rover. Jordan would probably want to get one of these massive things next. Had she targeted them on a day when Jordan had been driving because his BMW was easier to smash?

 

“I feel terrible. All of this crap going on. My wife is nagging me about spending too much time with you.”

 

“Oh,” Adam said. “So, I guess the movie this afternoon is off?”

 

“Yeah, sorry,” Jordan sighed. “I just want life to be less complicated.”

 

“You know what could make things less complicated?” Adam said in a way too casual manner.

 

“What?”

 

“Move in with me.”

 

There was a long pause and Adam wished he had kept his mouth shut. In truth, it was something he’d thought about for a long time now. When he was sitting at home, listening to his wife drone on and on about shopping or clothes or the new design for the bathroom that had been redesigned last year, he often slipped into a day-dream about living with Jordan. Them and the kids and a dog. Grilling out when it was warm. Cozy by the fire when it was cold. Talking about football rather than lighting fixtures. She got mad at him when he didn’t seem to care enough about her day-to-day life. That he thought her concerns were silly and pointless. It wasn’t that he didn’t think these things mattered to her. It was just that they didn’t matter to him. He didn’t think there was a thing wrong with the bathroom.

 

“I would love that,” Jordan said at last. “Can you imagine if we didn’t have to squeeze in time for each other? If we could just go home after training and be together and not have to pretend to be people that we know we really aren’t?”

 

“I imagine it all the time.”

 

Jordan held Adam’s hand for a long time. “A lot of people would get hurt. Our wives. It would be hard on the kids trying to adapt to the change. The divorces could be messy. We’d have to pay child support and deal with even more angry exes.”

 

“But if that accident has taught me anything it’s that life is too short to live it for someone else. Fine, maybe we never should have gotten married in the first place, but we both love our kids. We’re not going to say they were a mistake, but we’ve spent too much time conforming to something that just isn’t us.”

 

“I want to. I want to say screw it all and run off with you,” Jordan said. “But I’m going to need a little bit of time.”

 

“So that’s not a no?” Adam said as he released his hand to put the car in gear.

 

“It’s not a no.”

 

* * * *

 

Gary and Jamie were exhausted after a long afternoon at the police station. They were both supposed to have headed back up north after the broadcast that day, but they both ended up calling home and letting their partners know that they’d have to be in London another day.

 

They ended up at a pub near Jamie’s flat, in a dark corner eating shepherd’s pie and working their way through a second pint each.

 

“Lord, I thought they were going to start asking for a run-down of my prefered sexual positions,” Gary said as he winced at the recollection of the detailed information that the police had wanted on each and every one of his former partners.

 

Jamie chuckled. “Yes...I can see he likes to bottom. Clearly neither of these suspects could have sent the email.”

 

Gary let out a laugh. “Oh, you don’t care for long blow jobs? Well, that eliminates suspects five and six for sure. Those girls were blow job experts.”

 

“There is definitely such a thing as a too long blow job,” Jamie pondered this life truth as he drained his second pint. He nodded as the waitress came by and scooped up the empty glasses to refill.

 

“I know, right? I mean, I’m all about a nice little tease, but get in there, already.”

 

Jamie let out an actual giggle that set Gary off.

 

“We might need to cut ourselves off here,” Gary finally gasped.

 

“We’re not going anywhere until I have some chocolate cake. You can sleep on my couch if you want to.”

 

“I could get a taxi back to my place,” Gary said even as he tucked into the new pint.

 

“Your luck some ex of yours would be the driver and then where would you be?” Jamie pointed out reasonably. “I mean, you could get stuck in that cab getting the longest blow job in history and then where would you be!”

 

The couple next to them gave them a glare, and Jamie covered his mouth.

 

“Perhaps we should get that chocolate cake to go.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David Beckham writes porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fading, guys. If you have a suggestion, I'd love it!!!
> 
> X

“Right, we need more cheesy poofs,” Cesc said as he set down the controler for the X-Box and went to the kitchen.

 

“I think you ate the last bag,” Pedro said as he licked cheese off his fingers. 

 

What was supposed to be a party to help Dom get settled into his new place now that everything had been delivered had turned into a “set up the couch, X-Box, and TV and play video games” party. Stacks of Ikea boxes lined the wall. At least Cesar and Dom had managed to get the bed together.

 

“I’ve never built a couch before,” Cesar said as he wiggled on the couch, sure they’d left a few bolts out of it.

 

“I’ve never bought a couch at Ikea before,” Dom admitted. He didn’t even know it was possible to have a couch come in a box that you had to assemble.

 

“I always buy an extra bag,” Cesc happily announced as he returned with a fresh bag and wedged his butt into the groove he was already making in the couch. Their wives and kids were all upstairs in Pedro’s place. Mostly they were trying to stay out of the way lest they be drafted into building bookcases.

 

The doorbell rang.

 

“Did we order pizza?” Cesc asked hopefully.

 

“It’s four in the afternoon,” Pedro told him as he tried unsuccessfully to snag a handful of poofs.

 

Dom got up to answer it and was shocked to see Ruben leaning on his crutches in the doorway. “Hey.”

 

“Uh, hey,” Reben said as he glanced around Dom at the party. He waved.

 

“HEY!” called Cesc. “Do you have pizza?”

 

“No?”

 

Dom stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. “Sorry. They’re supposed to be helping me set up.”

 

“This is a nice place,” Ruben said even though they were in the corridor.

 

“Yeah...Uh….I just thought it was maybe time for me to invest in a place of my own.”

 

“Yeah, no...that’s a good idea. My dad has been on me as well.”

 

“And our lease was up and I wasn’t sure if you were ever moving back,” Dom said bluntly. “I didn’t want to pay for a two bedroom place I was going to be living in on my own.”

 

“Oh, well, I was probably coming back,” Ruben tried to hedge, unable to meet his eye, knowing that Dom had every right to be angry at him.

 

“Well, I suppose that would be why maybe you should have returned one of my texts.”

 

“You’ve been texting?”

 

“A couple times. Not for awhile,” Dom admitted. “I’ve been busy.”

 

“You have been,” Ruben said, an edge creeping into his voice. “Rumor has it you’re golfing with Beckham and now you’re practically best friends with the Spaniards.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to be sitting on the couch crying every night because you didn’t even have the balls to actually dump me?”

 

“I was seriously hurt in a terrorist attack!” 

 

“AND THAT WASN’T MY FAULT,” Dom yelled. “But I got punished for it, didn’t I?”

 

“Dom…”

 

“You know what, screw you. If you came here to make yourself feel better, you can go ahead and leave. I have proper friends who don’t treat me like I’m a waste of their time,” Dom said as he turned to the door. “I hope you and Danny will be very happy.”

 

“Danny and I aren’t together. Not like that…”

 

“Oh, so that’s why you’re here, your easy lay wasn’t waiting around for you when you decided you wanted some again,” Dom said as he realized the door to his flat had locked behind him, thus trapping him in the hallway. He unsuccessfully rattled it.

 

“I wanted to apologize!” Ruben yelled. “But you won’t shut up for three seconds to let me!”

 

“So apologize,” Dom said as he crossed his arms and glared.

 

Ruben leaned on his crutches and couldn’t think of a place to start. He’d never imagined that Dom was this upset with him.

 

The door opened and Pedro peered out. “Uh...you locked yourself out?”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Dom said as he put his foot in the door.

 

Pedro escaped the awkward, but interested eyes peered out from the crack in the door.

 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Dom said. I know I should have called. I know I should have at least come back to the house to talk to you or something, but…I was freaked out, okay?”

 

“You think I wasn’t freaked out too?” Dom asked. “Do you think I didn’t see Ruben Loftus-Cheek injured in terrorist attack that killed nine fucking people didn’t scare the crap out of me?”

 

Ruben looked stricken. “I…I didn’t think about you.”

 

“I know you didn’t,” Dom said as he glanced at three gaping Spaniards and then let the door close again. “You don’t think about me. You never really have. And I know…I know that’s how we were and it was all working out fine for us, but one thing came between us and it was just, over.”

 

Ruben’s cheeks were shiny in the low light of the corridor. “I’m sorry,” he said again. 

 

Dom nodded to acknowledge the sentiment. “I’m sorry this happened to you and I’m glad to hear that you’re going to be back to playing sooner than they expected.”

 

“Thank you,” Ruben said. “I guess…I better go.”

 

“We should do lunch,” Dom said and surprised himself.

 

“Yeah?” Ruben said. “I’m in the gym tomorrow morning. Wait for me after training?”

 

“Sure,” Dom said. He watched Ruben make his way back to the elevator. He took a long moment to collect himself, and realized that he felt better. A lot better.

 

He tapped on the door and Cesc opened it way too quickly. 

 

“Everything alright?” he asked in a slightly squeaky voice.

 

“Everything is fantastic,” Dom said with a genuine smile. “Now would you lot get off your asses and put together some of this shit?”

 

“Are you ordering pizza?” Cesc negotiated.

 

“When the bookcases are done.”

 

* * * *

 

“Wait, Gary Neville stayed over at your place?” JT asked Jamie when they met for golf later that week.

 

“We had a few too many pints over dinner after we went to the police,” Jamie said with a frown. “Why?”

 

“You do realize that people ship you, right?”

 

“They…what?” Jamie asked as he nearly dropped his driver. They were standing at the tee on a cold but clear afternoon.

 

“You know…those fangirls…”

 

“Yes, I know what shipping is,” Jamie said. He may have uhm, accidentally read some of the fics about him and both Fernando Torres and Steven Gerrard. It happened. “But me and Gary??”

 

“The two of you flirt on Twitter.”

 

“We do not.”

 

“Mate. You do,” JT said and was quiet for a moment as he watch Jamie slice his drive practically into the next county. Then he added, “Becks has even commented on it.”

 

“I can not believe that the two of you talk about that stuff.”

 

“Becks has been writing some fan-fiction. You should read his SerIker series.”

 

Jamie just stood and gaped at him. “You have got to be kidding me.”

 

“No, it’s really hot,” JT said.

 

“I was having enough trouble with the fact that our former girlfriends had formed an online terrorist group out to get us and now you’re telling me that David Beckham writes slash fiction.”

 

“Jamie? You okay?”

 

But Jamie was leaning against the golf cart. “I think I need a pint. Fuck that. I need a bottle of whiskey.”

 

“Hey, we could call Becks and see if he wants to do shots and do a reading of his latest chapter? I think Iker’s getting into bondage.”

 

Jamie fainted.

 

* * * *

 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time over at Dom’s,” Eden mentioned almost casually at training. It was Friday morning and after training, the team was getting on a plane for Liverpool where they were set to meet Everton the following afternoon.

 

“We’ve been helping him get set up at his new place. And Adriana and Carolina are friends and the kids play while Pedro, Dom and I...well, we play a lot of video games to be honest,” Cesar said with a chuckle. “Sometimes Cesc joins us.”

 

“I didn’t think you liked hanging out with Cesc,” Eden said as he glanced over to see the Catalan with a shirt on his head making some joke which had Digeo doubled over.

 

“He’s all right. He’s one of my Spain teammates, anyway. We get along.”

 

“I thought it was supposed to be club before country.”

 

“Well, sometimes you have to stick with the people you know,” Cesar said. “The people who stick by you.”

 

Eden didn’t rise to the bait. “I thought, you know, maybe you and I could hang out tonight.”

 

Cesar looked at Eden who was giving him that Eden smile. That “you-know-you-love-me-even-though-I’ve-been-an-ass” smile that got Cesar every single time.

 

“You know we’re not supposed to have sex the night before a match,” Cesar muttered.

 

“Just a cuddle,” Eden said even though his eyes said otherwise.

 

“Yeah, alright,” Cesar agreed and couldn’t help but look around the room for Michy. The winger was over talking to Tibo and seemed oblivious to the exchange.

 

Don’t question it, Cesar told himself. You know how Eden can be. You know that this is just for fun and nothing serious.

 

When you had an affair with a married man you took what you could get.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JT is nostalgic and Adam makes a discovery.

“I miss when we used to take the bus to matches,” JT said as he looked out the plane window on the short hop from London to Liverpool.

 

“You do?” Mikel asked him. As one of the few player still around from the days when they only flights they took in the league were to Newcastle. There were many long bus trips up to the northwest of England which invariably involved being stuck in traffic jams along the M6.

 

“Yeah,” JT said, looking across the aisle at him. “Remember how they used to get those epic card tournaments going. Where Didier would claim he was so bad at cards and end up cleaning out half the youngsters’ wages?”

 

Mikel chuckled. He’d been caught up in Didier’s scheme more than once. “You saying we need to fleece the kids for their pay?”

 

“I’d fear some of them would be better than me,” JT said as he looked around the plane. Everyone was on a phone or tablet. Nearly no one was talking save for him and Mikel. Sure, the rides had been long and the bathroom smelled, but those were the kinds of things that built teams.

 

“At least we don’t have you and Frank daring each other to give people hand jobs in the back row,” Mikel said, his eyes twinkling.

 

“You never seemed to complain,” JT grinned back.

 

“Remember when Avram realized what Coley and Bridge were getting up to in the back of the bus that one time and about had a coronary?”

 

“Oh my god,” JT laughed out loud as he vividly recalled the manger rushing back to the front of the coach, pretending he hadn’t seeb but everyone could tell that he had. “Every manager was a new one to break in, weren’t they?”

 

“I’m surprised more of them well, were surprised,” Mikel said as they’d been through more managers in his decade at Chelsea than he could probably count. “I mean, I know this stuff goes on at other teams.”

 

“Most managers stay at the front of the coach and let things be,” JT agreed. He wondered what kind of manager he would be some day. Would he let the shenanigans happen, or would he discourage it. He did know that more than one player in his time had pulled a hamstring, well, shenaniganing.

 

Mikel smiled. “It’s probably a lot easier not to ask.”

 

JT couldn’t disagree. Though as Mikel went back to his music, he had to wonder: did the team need some kind of bonding? Sure, they were playing some seriously amazing football right now, but he could see cracks in the team. He knew that Dom had moved out of the flat he’d shared with Ruben. I knew that, despite the fact that they were sharing an iPad and a pair of earbuds, not all was well between Eden and Cesar. Michy was across the aisle, jealous as hell. And hadn’t he been completely immersed in Frank since he’d come back to London? Was he ignoring his duties as team captain?

 

He used to take the lads paintballing. Now he preferred golf. But this season, the only people out on the links were diehards like him and Jamie. And even the two of them had retired to the clubhouse last week after Jamie had fainted at the idea of David Beckham writing slash fiction.

 

Maybe he could start a writing group. The lads could meet at his house one afternoon a week and all write and read fanfiction. Perhaps they could have David come and give a talk on writing good pornography.

 

“Always be aware of where everyone’s hands are. Nothing ruins a story faster than your reading thinking that someone’s hand is on someone else’s cock and then come to find out they were fingering someone’s asshole instead. Start small. Don’t try to tackle an orgry your first time out. Start with a hand job and see where it goes from there.”

 

“What are you laughing at,” Gary asked as he took off his Beats.

 

“Nothing,” JT said as he paused the video on his screen. “I think we need a team building exercise.”

 

Gary made a slight face at the notion. He used to have a manager when he was at Bolton who used to insist on all kinds of lame team building crap. About once a month someone would be brought in for “trust falls” or some equally idiotic activity. Now whenever someone said team building, he was sure he was about to be locked in a room and forces to build towers out of marshmallows and tooth picks.

 

“Something cool,” JT assured him.

 

“A wild night out at a club in the West End?” Gary proposed.

 

“Something that we’re not likely to end up in the papers for doing.”

 

“Well, that leaves out everything fun,” Gary said with a laugh. “How about a day out at Legoland with the kids.”

 

“My two aren’t much into Legoland and quite a few of the lads don’t have kids.”

 

“We could get Cesc to take us to Ikea,” Dom peered over the seat in front of them. “He’s an Ikea expert.”

 

“I don’t think anything at the Ikea cafeteria is permitted by the manager,” Mikel added.

 

“CESC HAVE YOU BEEN EATING THE HORSE MEATBALLS AT IKEA AGAIN?” JT yelled across the small jet.

 

“WHAT?” Cesc asked, startled. “NO! AND I DIDN’T PUT KETCHUP ON THEM EITHER.”

 

Everyone burst out laughing. They knew that if they searched Cesc’s person they’d likely find several packets of ketchup stashed. As long as Conte wasn’t staring at him, Cesc was certain to get ketchup from somewhere.

 

“We could take a team field trip to the Heinz factory and see how they make ketchup,” Gary said as they settled back into their seats.

 

“Cesc would drown in a vat of the stuff,” JT predicted. “We’re better off at Legoland.”

 

* * * *

 

After Adam proposed leaving their wives to Jordan, it was all he could think about. Whenever he was home, he’d imagine how he’d do it. He’d offer to leave her the house, but something told her she’d be out of Liverpool in a heartbeat if they got a divorce. Of course, that meant he wouldn’t get to see the kids as much. That kind of broke his heart, too.

 

That Friday after training, he realized that he’d left his favorite game boots at home. He tried to call his wife to see if she could drop them off, but there was no answer. She might not be home. Some nights when he was away she’d stay with a friend or her mom would come over. They’d put the kids down for a nap and open up a bottle of wine and forget her phone was on silent. Klopp had rolled his eyes but had let him run home before reporting to the team hotel. 

 

He couldn’t remember what she’d said she was doing tonight. Maybe she’d told him. God, he was a crap husband, he thought. Sleeping with someone else and not even paying attention when she talked to him.

 

He pulled up in front of the detached two story mock-Tudor and found her SUV in the drive along with another one. It wasn’t her mother’s car and he didn’t immediately recognize it.

 

Letting himself into the house, he called. “Don’t worry, love, it’s just me.”

 

He half expected to be accosted by the kids, but there was a strange silence in the house. If she was home, where were the boys?

 

“Emily?” he called as he climbed the stairs. “Love?”

 

There was a crash and something hit the floor in the bedroom. In a panic, Adam started running. Holy shit, not his family, that crazy psycho bitch did not hurt his family.

 

“EMILY!” he burst into the bedroom and found her lying on the bed looks disheveled. 

 

“Adam! I thought...I thought you were at the team hotel!”

 

“I was…” Adam said as he looked around. “I forgot my boots.”

 

“Silly boy!” Emily said with too high pitched of a giggle.

 

His panic turned to suspicion. “Who’s car is in the drive? Where are the kids??”

 

“It’s just Rebecca!” Emily said and then Jordan’s wife appeared in the door to the bathroom. 

 

“Hey Adam,” she said with a bright smile. “We were just having pedicures. My mom has the kids.”

 

“Just thought we’d have a little bit of pampering while you boys were off having fun!” Emily giggled.

 

“Sorry,” Rebecca said. “We’ve had some wine.”

 

Adam smiled. Of course that was it. “Sorry. Just...wasn’t expecting this. I’ll just grab my boots. I’ve got to head back before Klopp has my head.”

 

“Wouldn’t want that!” 

 

Adam located the boots he wanted amongst the collection in his walk-in closet. He paused to give Emily a kiss on the cheek and happened to notice that there didn’t appear to be any wine glasses lying around.

 

* * * *

 

“You knew Becks wrote porn?” Jamie asked under his breath as he and Gary sat at the Sky Sports desk after filming the Saturday morning pre-show.

 

“God yeah. He used to text me plot bunnies when he was at Real. Then all that phone hacking shit started, so he only emails me from his house though a dummy account he set up. I’m his beta.”

 

“Bunnies? Beta? What the hell language are you even talking?”

 

“I can’t believe you don’t know about this.”

 

“I mean,” Jamie said as he glanced around and double checked his mic was off, “I...you know...read some of it.”

 

Gary grinned. “Don’t we all. Come on. I got my laptop in my office. Let me show you.”

 

“Show...me…”

 

But Gary unclipped his mic and was half-way out of the studio. Well, shit, Jamie had to follow. They had several hours to kill before the first match would be over and while, yes, they should probably be watching it so they could talk about it, they had both done this enough times before to wing it if they needed to,

 

It was West Ham vs Swansea City. Nothing all that exciting was liable to happen, anyway.

 

Jamie caught up with Gary in the corridor which was bustling with activity. Sometimes Jamie forgot there were other sports going on when he got immersed in the football. 

 

Jamie had an office on the fifth floor. It was next to the office that they’d given, Jamie, but honestly, he rather wondered if they just had a few spare coat closets they threw desks into so they could claim they had an office and pay them a grand less a week. Not that either of them ever used it for much more than to catch a nap on a late evening.

 

Jamie realized he’d never been in Gary’s office before when he stepped in. There were several Manchester United posters, but it was a but sterile, like perhaps someone else had put them on. 

 

Gary closed the door and on the back of it was a half naked poster of David Beckham. “I didn’t put that there. Redknapp did.”

 

Jamie decided to ignore it. His brain was having enough trouble processing everything that was going on. And the office was small. And there was only one chair behind the desk which took up most of the space. Jamie became acutely aware of the buzz of the fluorescent lighting and the smell of Gary’s aftershave. It was the same one Steven always wore.

 

“Alright, look at this,” Gary said as he unlocked the laptop and clicked on the Google Chrome browser. He was on a site that Jamie was familiar with, called “Archive of Our Own”. He clicked on a user.

 

“That’s Beckham?” Jamie gaped the page appeared. “I’ve….I’ve read some of that stuff. I….well, most of these writers are women, aren’t they?”

 

“Mostly, yeah,” Gary said. “Becks doesn’t interact with the other users a lot, but he’s let it ‘slip’ that he’s 29 and living near Bournemouth. They think he’s a surgical nurse.”

 

“Holy crap,” Jamie breathed as Gary clicked open a story about Wayne Rooney and Cristiano Ronaldo.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam daydreams and Jamie denies.

Jamie had to lean over Gary’s shoulder to read the story. It was an angsty one about when Cris had left Manchester United all of those years ago. “If you say you love me, how can you leave?”

 

“You know I’ve wanted to play in Spain for a long time,” Cristiano said as he averted his eyes, unable to look at the naked pain on the face of his lover. “You know I need to be closer to my family. You know everything that has happened in the past few years. My mother needs me.”

 

“I need you,” Wayne begged as he grabbed Cristiano and….

 

Jame continued to read the steamy fic, and then momentarily lost track of the fact that Gary was even in the room. He knew he’d read this author before and that the stories were good. He’d not read this one because, well, Cristyne (or was it Roonaldo?) wasn’t really what he was into. His favorite writer was someone called “acrayonsmile”. She wrote this absolutely delicious series about the foursome of Danny Agger/Fernando Torres/Cesc Fabregas/Nicklas Bendtner which he was almost certain that at least Fernando had read. How did these writers know so much about them? Like who tops and who bottoms?

 

Jamie was lost in dirty thoughts and didn’t immediately realize that Gary’s hand was on his thigh. When he did become aware, he froze.

 

“Sorry,” Gary said as he felt Jamie stiffen. “I…”

 

“No,” Jamie said and didn’t move. “It’s okay.”

 

There was an awkward pause as Gary slid his hand back up Jamie’s thigh. There was so much sexual tension in the air, if either of them moved, they were likely to explode.

 

There was a sudden knock on the door and they swore and sprung apart. Gary slammed the lap top.

 

“Come in!” he rasped in a strangled voice.

 

At least he was sitting down, Jamie said as he realized he was sporting a serious boner.

 

The door opened and Jamie Redknapp peered in. “Hey, that’s where you two got off to….” he trailed off as he took in the scene. Clearing his throat he said, “The crew and I were going to go grab a spot of lunch at the pub and watch the match. You lads in….when you’re finished here?”

 

“Yes!” Gary squeaked. “Yes, we’ll be right there.”

 

Redknapp grinned and closed the door.

 

“Well. That was awk….” Gary started to say, but before he could finish, Jamie grabbed him with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop and started to kiss him. 

 

They might be missing lunch.

 

* * * *

 

“They were just, having a spa day, like they said,” Jordan said, utterly dismissing what Adam thought he’d seen in his bedroom. “You know how they get when they’ve had some wine. They probably get together like that all time, especially when we’re out of town for a couple of days!”

 

Adam just stared at him. “You think….you think they do this all the time?”

 

Jordan turned to look at him. He’d been unpacking his overnight bag at the team hotel. “Meet up...well...sure they do….”

 

“Jordan, they were half naked in a rumpled bed and lied to me about pedicures.”

 

“You’re saying our wives are cheating on us?” Jordan said and sounded like he was about to get angry.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Adam said and started to laugh. “You can’t get mad about this. We’ve been having an affair forever.”

 

“Well, I mean,” Jordan said and the had to grin. “But….I mean, you really think they are? I mean, I didn’t think Rebecca was like, into girls.”

 

“She probably doesn’t think you’re into guys, either!” Adam pointed out. “I mean, you’re in a heterosexual marriage. The fact that either of you are into homosexual sex is...well…”

 

“I guess we’re both bisexual,” Jordan shrugged. He’d not thought of any of this. Quite frankly, he liked to keep his worlds separate, thank you very much. 

 

“You know,” Adam said as he picked up the bottle of lube from Jordan’s case, “maybe we need to make this work for us.”

 

“Like, how….?”

 

“Well, I mean, we want to be together, they seem to want to be together, I say we arrange a swap.”

 

Jordan grinned. “I trade my wife to your wife in exchange for you?” He reached for Adam and pulled him into a comfortable embrace.

 

“I’m worth at least as much as your wife.”

 

“At least,” Jordan closed his eyes and leaned into Adam. This was such a safe place. So warm and inviting and nothing expected of him whatsoever. He didn’t have to be a husband and father or captain and leader. He just had to be Jordan.

 

They migrated to the bed where they lay intertwined. They weren’t in a hurry for sex. They had time. They had all night.

 

“You know,” Adam said eventually. “Maybe we could just form a commune. Sell both of our houses and go in together on a bigger place. We could have a room, they could have a room, and the kids could all grow up there together.”

 

Jordan smiled into his shoulder. “Now that sounds like a plan.”

 

“We’d save money not having to take two cars to training.”

 

‘Well, and for what our two houses are worth, we could certainly get somewhere really nice, with a pool and everything.”

 

“You can only use about pool about three days a year in Liverpool.”

 

“Indoor pool!”

 

“OR- we could just move into my house since we have plenty of space and sell your house and buy a vacation house in like Portugal.”

 

“I’d rather be in Ibiza.”

 

“Nah, too touristy. How about the Canary Islands?”

 

“Too far to fly.”

 

“Newquay?”

 

“Now you’re taking the piss.”

 

“How about we take a family vacation this summer and then we all 4 can decide where the best place to get our summer home should be?”

 

“Don’t let the kids vote. We’ll end up with a condo next to Disneyland Paris.”

 

“Does it have a pool?”

 

“I’m going to throw you in the pool,” Jordan said as he snuggled into Adam. It would probably never work, but it was sure fun to imagine.

 

Could they really have it all?

 

* * * *

 

“So. You and Neville.”

 

Jamie looked across the table at Frank and then shot an accusatory look over at JT. “I cannot believe….”

 

“Number one, no, I didn’t say anything and, number two, please, I do usually tell him everything,” JT laughed.

 

The three of them were sitting at a table in a restaurant, waiting for Steven Gerrard to join them. Stevie was just back from America, having taken a month to sell his LA home and pack up the wife and kids before returning full time to England. 

 

“You have met my cousin, Jamie Redknapp?” Frank said, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

 

Jamie swore under his breath. Of course Redknapp blabbed. “It’s...nothing.”

 

Frank was still grinning and, thankfully, Steven walked in at that moment.

 

There were hugs all around. The bastard had a perma-tan that the English winter would soon relieve him of.

 

“So what’s this I hear about you and Neville?” Steven said as soon as they ordered.

 

JT and Frank just about fell off their chairs as Jamie dropped his head into his hands.

 

“It was one goddamn blow job.”

 

“Well, he does have a big mouth. Did he managed to shut up long enough to get it done?” Steven asked as he sipped his wine.

 

“Wait, wait,” Frank said. “We need to clarify- he blow you or the other way around?”

 

“I am not talking about this,” Jamie said. “So. MK Dons?”

 

The other three laughed, but they let Jamie off the hook.

 

The truth was that yes, there had been blow jobs. And then Gary had gone back to Jamie’s after the Saturday night broadcast and….

 

His phone buzzed in the middle of the meal. “Are you done soon?”

 

Jamie didn’t reply, knowing that it would set off the three stooges again. Was he with Gary? Lord, he was obsessed with Gary.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pedro is a matchmaker and more people get threats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post yesterday, much soz! BIG one today!

“Are you seeing Ruben again?” Cesc asked, pointing his fork across the table at Dom over lunch. The baby carrot on it glared at him accusingly.

 

“What? No, we’re just hanging out. He’s with Danny,” Dom said, unable to look the carrot in the eye.

 

“Pedro says he’s been over twice this week,” Cesc said. “You haven’t invited me over.”

 

“You won’t come over until I stock in cheesy poofs.”

 

“How hard is it to get in cheesy poofs?” Cesc asked.

 

“I like Doritos.”

 

“We can’t be friends,” Cesc said as he turned to Cesar. “Dave. Back me up here.”

 

“Are we talking Cool Ranch or Nacho Cheese?”

 

“What?” Cesc nearly flung the carrot across the table at Eden. “No, that is irrelevant. Poofs or Doritos.?”

 

“I enjoy snacking on raw vegetables and hummus,” Eden said a bit too loudly and Cesc spun around to see Andre Conte standing behind them. 

 

“OH ME TOO.”

 

Conte shook his head and made his way over to the coach’s table with his tray.

 

Cesc sighed as he looked at his poor, ketchup-less potatoes. “He’s never starting me again.”

 

“I’ll buy some poofs and you can come over,” Dom consoled him.

 

“I’m not coming into your Dorito house.”

 

Dom was thankful he’d been able to distract Cesc from his purpose. He and Dom weren’t back together because he knew Ruben was in love with Danny. That he texted Danny nonstop when he was with Dom. 

 

But Dom had missed Ruben more than he realized. Just hanging out with him. Being with a friend who knew him best. He liked the Spaniards, he really did. But they didn't know him the way Ruben knew him. Ruben got his jokes. He got his sense of humor. He didn't have to think about the stuff that he said, he just had to be who he was. 

 

After lunch, he was the first to leave. Cesc and Pedro lingered, knowing they both had to go home to husband DIY house duties. Pedro's wife Carolina wanted him to install some new handles to the kitchen cabinets and Daniella wanted Cesc to hang pictures in Capri's room.

 

For once the "just pay someone to do it" didn't seem to work with either wife. So they sipped coffees, in no rush to leave.

 

Cesc watched Dom leave the cafeteria. "I think we need to find Dom a new boyfriend."

 

"Not a girlfriend?"

 

"I don't think he wants a girlfriend. I know, I mean most of us go both ways, but he doesn't," Cesc said. "He and Ruben were like actually a couple, not just fuck buddies."

 

"Maybe he just needs a fuck buddy. I mean, he's just off a long term thing,” Pedro stirred his coffee with a spoon and longed for something other than Stevia and skim milk to put in it.

 

"Dom doesn't see the fuck buddy type. He needs someone to order take away with and watch rom coms," Cesc said confidently. "Someone who doesn't mind his Dorito breath."

 

"Says he of the orange fingers," Pedro rolled his eyes. 

 

"You're not kissing my fingers," Cesc logically argued. "So. Do we know anyone for Dom?"

 

Pedro thought about the team. "All of the other youngsters are with girlfriends from back in the day. They're still in the lovey-dovey period of their relationships where they wouldn't really want a fuck buddy."

 

"Well, and it's always dangerous getting involved like that when you're young. I mean, me and Gerard used to mess around when we were kids and then I was off in London and that got tough."

 

"You think he wants someone older? More established?" Pedro asked. "But who?"

 

"I can't think of anyone who might be interested who...."

 

"Hey Fabregas, Conte left, you can get out the ketchup now," Michy called on his way past to put up his tray.

 

Pedro looked at Cesc and grinned. "We get Michy interested in Dom then Eden doesn't have anyone to distract him for Cesar any more and everyone is happy."

 

"Someone should pay us to do this shit," Cesc beamed.  
* * * *

 

Everyone thought perhaps the group out to get the England National Team had gone to ground. After Gary’s threats, there wasn’t anything else for awhile. 

 

And then Wayne Rooney found a toy gun on the front seat of his car with a note. “We’re coming for you, next”

 

* * * *

 

“Did you read Beckham’s latest post?” Frank asked as he walked into JT’s house.

 

“What? No. You read that?” JT said as he glanced to the patio doors to be sure that all of the kids were out there and the doors were shut. 

 

“Doesn’t everyone?” Toni asked from the living room where she was watching Homes Under the Hammer.

 

JT was arranging vegetables on a tray and Frank joined him, setting the cheese plate and crackers he’d brought on the counter. He nearly dropped a whole cucumber on the floor. “YOU read that?”

 

Toni smiled. “What? His SerIker series is hot.”

 

Frank burst out laughing as he poured himself a glass of wine. 

 

“Is everyone out there reading gay porn? How did I not know about this?”

 

“You don’t read anything, dear,” Toni said.

 

“Yes I do! I instagram books I’ve read all the time.”

 

“You instagram books you’ve bought in a vain attempt to convince people that you read and then you put them on a shelf to make it look like you’ve read them and you never get past the first chapter.”

 

“I…” JT started to protest, but Frank cut him off.

 

“Mate, I’ve been on hundreds of coaches and planes with you. You get out the book, you’re like ‘look, I have a book’ and then you’re asleep five minutes later.”

 

“Fine, alright, but what does this have to do with reading fanfiction?”

 

“Becks! He wrote a post calling out the people in the online football community to out the people responsible for the attacks and the threats.”

 

“No one knows it’s him, so, I mean, isn’t it just another random fan posting about it?” Toni wondered.

 

“Well, he’s pretty popular. His stories get thousands of hits,” Frank said as he carried the bottle of wine to Toni to offer her a refill.

 

“I can’t hurt, I suppose. Thank you.”

 

“At least they’re just making threats now,” JT said.

 

“Yeah, but who’s to say they’re not planning something big,” Toni argued. “And who’s gotten threats that’s been too embarrassed to go to the police?”

 

“I haven’t gotten any threats,” JT said. “I promise, love.”

 

Frank saw the tension and topped up JT’s glass as well. With his eyes he asked JT the truth of that protestation and JT nodded. In truth, he’d been expecting them. JT had made his share of dumb decisions when it came to his sex life over the years and there was undoubtedly more than one angry person out there because of how he’d treated them.

 

To be fair, while he didn’t discount his own behavior, he had to wonder what some of these people expected when they came after famous people the way they did. Offering themselves up on a silver platter and then being angry when what was offered was taken. JT had never, ever forced anyone to do anything. Quite frankly, he was offered more than he could partake of even if he’d been inclined. It didn’t happen nearly as much any more, but mostly because he didn’t go out to clubs like he used to. It didn’t mean he didn’t still get the occasional offer sitting at the golf club or, once, in the middle of a Marks and Spencer. 

 

“Celebrity confuses people about what’s real,” Frank philosophized as he helped JT carry the trays of snacks to the coffee table in the living room. “They see us on TV, and these days on social media, and they think they actually know us. That we are friends rather than strangers. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve had people come up and talk to me like we were in the middle of some larger conversation that occurred entirely in their head and are disappointed that I don’t pick up where they think we left off.”

 

“It’s scary,” Toni said as she looked out at the kids who’d spied the snacks and, the charge led by Summer, swarmed into the room to eat, thus ending the conversation.

 

* * * *

 

“How is it time for an international break again already?” Cesc wondered as he dug through his locker at Stamford Bridge and realized he’d left his Beats on the bus. Dammit.

 

“Time passes?” Cesar wondered aloud even as Cesc gave him a death glare. He was grinning however. Things were back on track with Eden, and Michy had had picked up a slight muscle strain and wasn’t going to the Belgium camp this time.

 

“I don’t even know who we’re playing,” Cesc grumbled, wondering if he could pick up a spare pair at the airport. The Spaniards had a flight in two hours and he didn’t have time to hunt them down.

 

“We’ve got to make up that qualifier we missed in November,” Gary said, a trace of nerves in his voice. They had been supposed to play a friendly against Russia who didn’t have to qualify for the 2018 World Cup as hosts, but FIFA had decided to cancel that in favor of the qualifier.

 

“They got extra security lined up?” JT asked him, knowing that three other players had gotten threats that week.

 

“We’re going to train in Manchester at City’s facility, but no one is supposed to know that. We’re showing up at the usual place and then getting on a coach. We’ll leave for the qualifier in the middle of the night,” Gary said.

 

“Well, there’s one way to destroy the England National Team,” said Cesar. “You guys are going to be exhausted.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Gary said. “I can’t sleep on busses or in planes. We are going to be wrecked.”

 

“At least they’re taking it seriously,” Dom chimed in.

 

Cesc glanced at Dom. Michy was home for international break and Cesc had been supposed to arrange some way for the two of them to get together, but at the moment he couldn’t even find his headphones.

 

“Dom, you want these passes I got for the premier for the Batman Lego movie?” Pedro asked. “I thought Carolina might want to take the kids, but she’s going to Spain to see her family. It’s this weekend.”

 

“Batman?” Michy looked up, interested. “Why didn’t you offer them to me!”

 

“There’s two passes, why don’t you and Dom go together?”

 

Cesc shot a look at Pedro who was for all the world innocently offering a teammate some thing he didn’t need rather than masterfully setting up a date.

 

“Yeah, I’m up for it,” Michy said with a smile at Dom. “We should get dressed for the red carpet, man.”

 

“Aren’t we going to look odd without a kid?” Dom wondered though he was not adverse to the idea. He liked the Lego movies and Michy was a good guy. It could be fun.

 

"Please, we are going to look so fine, they're not even going to care," Michy grinned at him. They made arrangements for the night out as Pedro sat back with a knowing grin.

 

"You might be an evil genius," Cesc muttered to him on the way out to training.

 

"Well, I'm not evil," Pedro winked at him.

 

****

 

Danny hunched down in his seat on the England coach, thankful to have gotten a pair of seats to himself on the ridiculous escape from London up to Manchester. He'd been in Liverpool this morning and now he was on a bus back to Manchester. Seriously.

 

Ruben should be here, Danny thought sourly. One training. He'd gotten one training with Ruben here for England and then the attack. And now he'd heard that Ruben was back hanging out with Dom again. Ruben insisted it was just as friends, but...

 

He glanced across the aisle at Wayne Rooney who sat on his own as well. The veteran striker was hunched down with his headphones, blue eyes staring out into nothing.

 

They were all on edge after the continued threats. Even the players who really had nothing to fear for themselves, knew that they were crazy people out there who were out to get the team and didn't really care about the collateral damage.

 

What had Ruben ever done? Ruben was a gay man who had a lover who, well, he'd not been very kind to Dom, but, Dom wasn't likely lash out like these people were doing. Well, Danny didn't think so. From what Ruben had said, Dom had offically moved on. He was hanging out with the elite of the first time and golfing with David Beckham. Shit, Danny had been on the England squad for 5 years and never once been asked to go golfing with David Beckham.

 

Well, no, he didn't golf, but...

 

Raheem Sterling passed by on his way back from the bathroom and paused by Danny.

 

"How you doing, mate?"

 

Danny and Raheem had always been friendly when the latter had played for Liverpool. Danny had been a bit jealous, to be honest, when Raheem had escaped for Manchester City, though he'd not yet managed to win a title yet as Danny had at Chelsea, having one the league, FA Cup, and Champions League with the Blues. He couldn't fault Raheem for seeking silverware. It wasn't that Danny didn't believe in Liverpool. They were a lot better this season now that everyone had bought into what Klopp was trying to do, but it was hard to be patient for a payoff.

 

"I'm good, you?" Danny said as he gestured for Raheem to sit. He needed to get out of his own head today. He was starting to wallow.

 

"Doing alright," Raheem agreed, though in fact, Liverpool was having a much better season than City at the moment. He glanced at Wayne who appeared to have fallen asleep. "How insane are all these threats people have been making?"

 

"I know, right?"

 

"I mean, Lallana and Hendo getting targeted, some of us are starting to worry about getting caught in the crossfire. I mean, here we are on this bus and half of us have never done anything that would get us targeted."

 

Danny nodded, hadn't he just been thinking the same thing about Ruben?

 

"I mean, it's not that we don't care about our teammates, but how many more of us are going to get hurt for something we didn't even do?"

 

"What can we do?" Danny asked, caught up in agreeing.

 

"We're going to have a word with the president of the FA."

 

"You're going above Southgate?"

 

"Mate, he's been implicated, too. He's going to side with these players."

 

"What do you want the FA to do, even though Danny could already guess at what the answer might be.

 

"We want them off the team."

 

* * * *

 

Geri was pale as he sat in the dressing room, looking like perhaps he'd been sharing too many snacks with Messi.

 

"What's with you?" Cesc asked as he sat too close to his lover.

 

Geri handed over his phone.

 

"I don't want to look at you missus's boobs," Cesc said as he turned away from the screen.

 

"No," Geri said as he pushed it forward again. "I got a threat."

 

Cesc went pale as he read the message, threatening not only to expose Gerard for his indiscretions but perhaps an attack on the Spanish National Team was imminent. 

 

"But...you've not been cheating on Sha?" Cesc asked, maybe a little too desperately. They'd agreed. Fooling around with each other was no big deal, but they most certainly were not going to mess around with other people...well, any more.

 

Yes, fine, okay, Cesc had cheated. It was hard to say no sometimes when you were a hot young footballer and women were constantly throwing themselves at you, okay? Yes, he knew it was wrong, but it was fucking easy to have high and mighty morals when half naked girls didn't have their hands down your pants.

 

And yes he felt guilty about it, okay? Haven't you ever done something you weren't proud of? Well?

 

"Cesc?" Geri asked and Cesc realized that his inner monologue might have become external.

 

"Sorry," Cesc went pink. "Well, we have to tell someone!"

 

"I can't tell someone!" Geri protested. "Sha will find out and she's threatened to have my balls relocated to a place outside my body if I cheated on her!"

 

"Well, did you?" Cesc had to ask.

 

"How can you ask that?"

 

"So who's threatening you. And why?" Cesc had lost all traces of his childish humor. While he didn't discount innocent people getting dragged down in this fiasco, in cases like theses, there was generally some truth to the situation.

 

Gerard slammed out of the dressing room, his lack of answer being the whole answer.

 

Cesc took a breath. This shit was why he didn't like being a fucking adult. He needed to be worried about the threat right now rather than the fact that Geri had been cheating on him.

 

"Wait, Gerard got a threat?" Pedro was at Cesc's side like the stealthy midfield gossip he was well known to be.

 

"Yeah."

 

"We gotta tell someone," Pedro said. "This crap is not something to blow off."

 

Cesc looked at Pedro and really wanted to tell him to fucking mind his own fucking business thank you very much, but he knew that he was right.

 

"Who do we tell?"

 

They stared at each other for a long minute. "Uh...the coach?"

 

"The police?"

 

"JT?"

 

Cesc got out his phone and sent a text to his team captain. But before JT had a chance to respond, Iker stuck his head into the dressing room. 

 

"Geri got a threatening email. Team meeting now."

 

Pedro glanced at Cesc. "Yeah, we coulda told Iker."

 

"I won't tell anyone if you won't."

 

"Agreed."

 

* * * *

 

Dom and Michy texted each other all day before the Lego movie premier. They were trying to decide what to wear. A Lego movie was hardly a black tie event, surely? Michy wanted to wear one of his Batman t-shirts, but Dom thought that might be kind of trite. Michy had argued that it was a Batman movie, what else did you wear? You went to the football in your kit, and you went to the Batman movie in your Batman t-shirt.

 

"You're going to go around all evening saying "I'm Batman" in a Val Kilmer voice all evening, aren't you?"

 

"Of course not," Michy had replied. "I'm totally using my Christian Bale voice."  
"How many times have you seen all the Batman movies?" Dom asked as the Uber picked him up at his flat, having already collected Michy who lived up the street in the block of flats that the Belgians preferred.

 

"Which ones? The Michael Keaton Era? I'm really not much a fan of the Clooney or the Kilmer, but the Bale ones are excellent."

 

Dom shook his head, but found he rather enjoyed listening to Michy give his dissertation on the various incarnations of the franchise. His grandfather had given him Batman comics when he was a kid and he'd never outgrown them.

 

"I never get the idea that you have to outgrow the things that make you happy. I mean, fine, you gotta grow up and earn a living, but who says you can't enjoy comic books of video games when you're an adult?" Dom said as he dismissed Michy's mom's lament that he was never going to outgrown Spongebob.

 

"I know, right? I mean, who decides these things? It's like you grow up to go to work, retire, and die. What possible fun is that?" Michy agreed wholeheartedly as they crawled toward the West End of London. 

 

"Maybe that's why you have kids. I swear Cesc has them just so he has an excuse to color."

 

"Cesc is the horniest child I've ever met," Michy laughed.

 

"I know, right? Pedro asked me if I thought he used ketchup as a sex aid and now I can't get that out of my head."

 

"Oh, so you thought you'd put it in my head, too???" 

 

The Uber dropped them off around the corner from the premier. 

 

“So...how does this work?” Dom asked as he looked at the passes. “Do we walk in the front door? Are we red carpet people?”

 

“Bro, we’re Premier League footballers.” He took the passes from Dom’s hand. “We rate the red carpet!” 

 

Michy confidently strode forward with Dom on his heels. At the edge of the red carpet, he handed the passes to a woman with a clip board. She looked at them, up at the two men, and waved them past, zero recognition on her face.

 

“We’re not exactly A-listers,” Dom said with a slight grin at Michy’s down cast face. He looked down the red carpet and… “Holy shit.”

 

“What?”

 

“Holy shit, that is fucking Mariah Carey over there,” Dom pointed and Michy’s eyes got wide.

 

“Holy shit,” he agreed. “Can we talk to her?”

 

“I don’t think those two massive men next to her will be real keen on it,” Dom lamented, but he angled his phone to take a quick selfie with her in the background.

 

“Dude, get me in the picture, too,” MIchy leaned into him and they snapped the phone.

 

“I’m sending it to the whole team,” Dom said with a grin as the team had a group text set up, mostly for reminders about training times and other business, but this certainly warranted a text to the team.

 

“Ruben is going to shit, he loves Mariah,” Dom said with a grin as he sent the text.

 

They made their way up the red carpet and were ushered inside. There were a number of pseudo-celebrities (Big Brother contestants and people from Essex) with their kids, and Dom and Michy made their way to the free bar, stopping to grab a free tub of popcorn on the way.

 

“So, you and Ruben. Is that, off?” Michy asked as he dug into the free popcorn.

 

Dom nodded. “He moved out after the accident and I bought my own place.”

 

“That’s a shame. You guys seemed good.”

 

Dom shrugged. “I think it was interia keeping us together. We were kids when started the whole thing and then we never found any reason to break up. I think the accident was just a wake up call, you know? We’re still friends, but he really always wanted to be with Danny, anyway.”

 

“Sturridge?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Michy drank his beer. “I know what that’s like. When you’re in love with someone who love someone else?”

 

“I mean...I guess I still love Ruben, but I get he doesn’t want me any more.”

 

“Yeah. I mean…” Michy took another drink.

 

Dom looked at him. “Eden. You’re in love with Eden.”

 

Michy drank more.

 

“I mean, it’s none of my business,” Dom said quickly.

 

“No, you’re right I am. But he’s not in love with me. He’s my buddy. He’s in love with his wife and he already has Cesar to screw around with. I thought maybe I could get some action when I moved here to Chelsea, but no luck.”

 

“You came to Chelsea for him?”

 

“Not...entirely. I mean, shit, Chelsea is a great team and it’s been great being here...but he was some of the decision...yeah.”

 

“I get it,” Dom said. “You’re invested and he thinks it’s fun.”

 

“Yeah,” Michy said. “I just gotta move on. Tibo’s been telling me and telling me and I just need to listen.”

 

“Who’s Tibo with?” Dom said, not wanting to put his two cents in, though he thought that Tibo was probably right. He was trying to do the same thing with Ruben, but he knew that if was really that easy, then no one would ever write any country music songs.

 

“His wife,” Michy chuckled. “Contrary to popular opinion, not everyone is cheating.”

 

Dom laughed. “Pedro isn’t either. He loves hanging around with everyone, but his thrill is in the gossip.”

 

“He knows everything,” Michy agreed. He finished his beer and picked up his tub of popcorn. “Come on. Let’s get a good seat.”

 

“Not next to that kid,” Dom grinned as a two year old in a tiara had thrown herself on the floor and was screaming at the top of her lungs.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone can get caught in the crossfire.

“Crap, the Spanish team is getting threats now too?” Jamie said. “For fuck’s sake, why can’t they get these people?

 

Jamie was pacing his hotel room in his boxer shorts. Sky Sports had sent them to Malta to cover the England National Team match. Gary was lying on the bed, having just read the news in a text from David. He’d heard the news from Iker. “No one has posted anything under their real names. They’re posting on public computers.”

 

“I thought the government was following everything we did online! I thought you couldn’t order a pizza without getting your cholesterol readings checked through the NHS.”

 

Gary cracked a grin even though he knew Jamie was honestly upset. Nothing more had come of his threats, not since the car accident, and he was starting to wonder if these people were going to actually do anything more than threaten. Not that he wanted them too, but…

 

“Dammit,” Jamie said as he sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands.

 

“Hey, what is this?” Gary asked as he sat up. Crawling over to Jamie, he laid his hands on his shoulders and leaned into his back, feeling the warmth. “What are you worried about?”

 

“You! These people already blew up the England training grounds and smashed head on into Hendo and Adam. They’re dangerous!”

 

“Oh Carra,” Gary said as he slid his arms around him. “Nothing is going to happen to me. The police are on top of this. They’re sending threats because they’re too chicken to do anything else.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Jamie begged as he clung to Gary. “If something happened to you…”

 

“Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise.”

 

* * * *

 

“I vote we stay in Malta and never leave,” Adam said as he and Jordan settled in by the rooftop pool at the posh hotel the England National Team had been booked into for their stay.

 

“It could solve a lot of problems,” Jordan agreed as he closed his eyes, feeling the sun on his skin for the first time in months. The match was tomorrow, and after all of the insane traveling in an attempt to keep the team safe, the team had been given a long afternoon and evening to rest.

 

The rest of the team was beginning to gather, many pale white chests on display.

 

“You know you’re going to have sunburn tomorrow, right?” Danny asked as he took the chair next to Jordan. He looked over at Raheem, who appeared to have a clutch of people around him. Danny ignored him. Did Raheem seriously expect him to take his paranoid ranting about having people like Hendo and Adam taken off the team? If they got rid of everyone who’d gotten a threat they wouldn’t have much of a team left. Yeah, at the time, he’d thought Raheem had a good point, but at the end of the day, they were teammates. 

 

Besides, they had the best sun loungers by the pool. The hell if he was sitting over there under the umbrellas just to prove a point.

 

“I don’t burn,” Jordan said confidently.

 

“Famous last words,” Adam said as he applied a layer of sun cream he’d picked up at the gift shop downstairs. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”

 

“Adam will apply it for you,” Danny said with a wink.

 

“Shut it, Studge,” Jordan said, but he was smiling. “It’s not that hot out here any way.”

 

“Maybe he wants me to apply the after sun later, in private,” Adam winked at Danny who chuckled and laid back on his chair. Adam was rather shocked that Danny was not only sitting by them voluntarily, but also engaging in banter. Ever since he’d gotten back with Ruben, it was like they had a kinder, gentler Danny. Adam would like to keep him.

 

Jamie Carragher, Gary Neville, and Jamie Redknapp had joined the party. Jordan knew that the pundits were friends with a lot of the team, having played with many of them, but he also knew that any and everything you said to them was liable to end up on the latest sports update. 

 

Several of the players had plastic cups in their hands, which Jordan soon realized had beer in them.

 

“Why do they have beer?” Jordan groaned. “We have a fucking World Cup Qualifier tomorrow.”

 

Danny, who’d gone to get a bottle of water, reported, “Someone sent up a keg. Most of them are just having a half.”

 

Jordan was glad to see at least that none of his Liverpool teammates had not chosen to have a drink. Honestly, it was no wonder people in their own country wanted them dead.

 

It didn’t help anything that their team captain was sitting with a cup in his hand. Jordan looked away from Wayne, knowing the disgust was plain on his face.

 

“Come on,” Adam said as the sun had disappeared over the edge of the building and the chill of the evening began to creep in. “Let’s just get out of here.”

 

Danny followed them down, knowing it was nearly time for dinner anyway. He’d call Ruben before dinner and see if he was up for some Facetime later.

 

As the team filed into the dining room, Jordan noticed that several of them weren’t looking well. And several others were missing.

 

“Where’s Wayne?” Jordan asked a nauseous looking Gary Cahill.

 

“He wasn’t feeling good. He decided to go have a nap.”

 

“Too much sun?” Adam wondered, though he and Jordan had been lying in the sun far longer than many of the others. 

 

“Dunno,” Gary said as he took a seat. He stared for a moment at the dish of baked chicken on the table before getting up and running for the bathroom.

 

Before long, nearly every member of the team had thrown up, save for the few who hadn’t…

 

“The beer,” Jordan said as he stood up. “There was something wrong with the beer.”

 

He headed for the elevator which would take them up to the deck. Feeling a little bit like extras on a crime drama, Danny and Adam followed him. 

 

“It was just a keg of beer,” Adam said reasonably. “Maybe they’ve all come down with a stomach bug.”

 

“Everyone who was drinking the beer?” Jordan replied.

 

“How do you even poison beer?” Danny wanted to know. He got out his phone and googled “how do you poison beer?” The results came up with a disturbing story. “Some 70 people were killed at a Mozambique funeral after drinking beer that had been laced with deadly crocodile bile. The poison was added to a homemade local brew known as Pombe.”

 

“Do what?” Adam asked as the elevator arrived at the pool deck.

 

“Poison in the beer?” Jordan asked as they all three crowded around the phone for a moment, until the door closed again and they realized perhaps they should get off of the elevator.

 

The trio tumbled out to a scene of carnage. People had been puking in the pool. Jamie Carragher was desperately trying to revive Gary Neville. He was lying on one of the sun loungers, fully passed out.

 

“Hendo! Call a fucking ambulance or something!”

 

“Are you okay?” Adam asked as Jordan got out his phone.

 

“I’ll get the trainers,” Danny said as he got back on the elevator.

 

Adam looked around to see who else needed help, but Gary and Jamie appeared to be the last two standing. “Gary!” Jamie was near tears.

 

“We need to roll him on his side. Everyone else has been throwing up.” 

 

Jamie and Adam got Gary on his side, and almost immediately, Gary puked all over Adam’s shoes.

 

“What the hell was in that beer?”

 

* * * *

 

“You have to go on air,” said the producer who the author still hasn’t named because she hadn’t actually considered that the producer would be more than a throw away character and then she went and poisoned 2/3rds of the pundits and now Jamie has to have someone to talk to. We’ll call her Becky.

 

Jamie stood, looking shocked. They had wedged him into a shirt and tie, but his eyes were red from crying.

 

“I can’t go on the air!”

 

“You have to,” Becky said. “Redknapp and Neville are in the hospital. Half of England’s squad is in the hospital. You were there. We need you.”

 

“I….I…,” Jamie said. Yes he fucking knew Gary was in the hospital. He hadn’t been allowed to go with him. He was here on this fucking temporary set they’d created and was supposed to look concerned and serious for the great British public.

 

Becky took a breath to try again, but at that moment, Frank Lampard and Steven Gerrard appeared on the scene.

 

“Carra,” Steven said and immediately went to his long time friend for a hug. “Mate. I’m glad you’re okay.”

 

“My stomach was bothering me after the boat ride we took in the morning so I didn’t have any beer,” Jamie said. “How’s your cousin?”

 

“He’s alright,” Frank reported. “He’d only had about half a glass and they’re just treating him for dehydration. Most of the lads hadn’t had much and they think they’re going to be fine.”

 

“You were at the hospital?” Becky, in desperation, turned to Frank. “Can you and Steven go on air for us? We’re live in three minutes.”

 

Frank and Steven looked at each other and nodded. “Yeah, we can. Carra?”

 

Jamie just shook his head. “I can’t...I can’t right now.”

 

“We got you,” Steven said as he gave him another hug. “You sit.”

 

Jamie found a chair and someone got him a cup of strong, sweet tea. As he watched, Frank and Jamie, in their casual island wear, were miked up to go on air.

 

“Coming to you live from Malta, I’m Frank Lampard, and this is Steven Gerrard.”

 

To tell the truth, the pair of them, currently between jobs and contemplating their futures, were naturals. Jamie had a moment’s pause to think maybe he should have agreed to go on air lest he find himself unemployed in the near future.

 

“The latest we know from the England camp is that fifteen of the twenty-three first team squad have taken ill following what appears to be a deliberate poisoning of some drinks sent to the camp as the players were having an afternoon off at the hotel pool. Also taken ill were six members of staff and Sky Sports own Gary Neville and Jamie Redknapp,” Frank began his report. They declined to share the names of any of the other ill people, knowing that many of the families had not been notified as yet. After sharing everything they knew, Becky was in their ears telling them to talk it over.

 

“Frank, I have to ask, back in our day we’d get a proper telling off if we even thought about having a beer on international duty. Why would the players have been drinking?” Steven asked.

 

“To be fair to the players, it really has been a long couple of months with the bombing and the accident of Lallana and Henderson. Now with the increased threats and the team having to spend extra time traveling to ensure their safety, maybe it’s not such a bad thing that they were trying to relax a bit before tomorrow’s match,” Frank was quick to come to the players’ defense even though he really did rather agree. Not that anyone deserved what was happening right now, but honestly. The night before the match?

 

“So, do we have any idea who was behind this? Any chance it was accidental?” Steven asked.

 

“The police are investigating where the keg of beer came from. As far as we know, it wasn’t provided by the hotel.”

 

“I have to say, if it’s the same group, they’re getting creative. A bomb, a car accident, and now a poisoning,” Steven said. It was on the tip of his tongue to comment that at least it wasn’t boring, but he restrained himself.

 

“From what I’m aware of the internet group behind this, it was separate people who did the bombing and the accident. This person could be unrelated to the other two.”

 

“Or someone completely new.”

 

“We’re going to send you back to London, now,” Frank said as Becky told them to cut it with the speculations. “This has been Frank Lampard and Steven Gerrard coming to you live from Malta.”

 

The cameras went off and Becky thanked them. “I don’t suppose you two could stick around for a bit for the news later?”

 

“Sure,” Frank said. “Jamie, you want to go to the hospital and call us with updates?”

 

“Yeah,” Jamie said, eternally grateful to Frank for this suggestion. Steven went to help Jamie find a ride to the hospital. It was a bit of chaos in the hotel as many of the players’ families had come for the match and were trying to find out exactly what was going on.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JT gets the call

Frank called JT.

 

“Since when do you work for Sky Sports?” JT answered. 

 

“Stevie and I came looking for Carra and he was wreck. I guess Gary’s in pretty bad shape. He’d had almost two full cups before whatever was in that drink too effect.”

 

“Shit.” JT said. “Is he gonna be okay?”

 

“We don’t know.”

 

“Your cousin okay?”

 

“Yeah, Harry called me. He should be fine.”

 

“Good,” JT said. “I got a text from Cahill. He’s good.”

 

“That’s good to hear.”

 

“So, you’re filling in at Sky Sports, they gonna get you to lace up your boots for the match tomorrow?” JT said and was mostly teasing.

 

“Hendo said they were already trying to get replacements on a plane to get down here. We cannot afford to miss another match.”

 

“I’d like to say it’s just Malta, but they gave us a run for our money in the autumn,” JT sighed.

 

“You coming down?” Frank asked.

 

“Shit, you think they’re desperate enough to want me?” JT asked even as his phone beeped. He glanced at it to see that it was Gareth Southgate, temporary England manager on the phone. “I guess they are.”

 

“See you in the morning,” Frank said and they hung up.

 

* * * *

 

JT did end up on a plane with Dom and Jamal Blackman, one of Chelsea’s reserve keepers. A dozen players from all over were being brought in to fill the ranks so they could at least field a team. The were already a match behind on qualifying, and UEFA wasn’t happy. If they tried to call off another match, UEFA was likely to tell them to “play or drop out”. Even as crap as the England National Team could be, not going to the World Cup would be a huge economic blow to the country which was already struggling post Brexit.

 

“This is not exactly how I wanted to get my first cap for England,” Dom said as the private jet that England had chartered took off from Luton airport.

 

“Through attrition?” JT asked. “I never imagined I’d play again. Right after I retired I thought there might be a chance I’d go back again, but it’s been years. I thought that ship had sailed.”

 

“Your triumphant return?”

 

“Nah, I’m just coming along to help the team out in a moment of crisis. It’s not about me, it’s for England.”

 

“Is that the official speech you’re going to give when the press corners you as we get off the plane?” James Milner leaned over from across the aisle. “Because that’s what I was going to go with.”

 

“Anything for Queen and Country?” JT asked with a grin.

 

“Well, that and the money doesn’t hurt,” James said with a cheeky smile. “Though I hope we win. The press will have a field day if we don’t beat Malta.”

 

“Well, considering two thirds of our first choice players are in hospital having been poisoned, the fact that we manage to field a team at all should get us some credit,” JT said, though he knew it was bullshit. A team full of second choice players who will have, at best, a couple of hours to organize and they were still going to expect a clean sheet and at least five goals. 

 

“If we win it was expected, if we lose, we’re losers?” James said with a wry smile. He’d enjoyed his time with England, but not logging on to the internet after every match and seeing fat-has-beens explaining why he’s a complete failure no matter what the result was rather awesome.

 

“I know, right?” JT said. He noticed that Dom was looking worried, and he patted him on the knee. “It’s not all bad as that, I promise. There’s a good reason why us jaded old guys aren’t on the team any more.”

 

“You’re old?” Jamal asked.

 

“Exactly.”

 

* * * *

 

Nearly all of the England team had been treated and released from the hospital. Thankfully, they’d at least been smart enough to only be having a little bit of beer before the match. Most of them had taken a flight back to England and were expected to make full recoveries in a few days. However Gary Neville and Wayne Rooney were still in the hospital. Wayne was conscious, but still having trouble keeping fluids down, but Gary, who’d had the most beer of anyone, had yet to regain consciousness.

 

His wife was sitting with him in the Intensive Care Unit of the tiny Malta hospital, which left Jamie to pace the halls of the hotel.

 

He’d gotten himself back together to do the morning report for Sky Sports, and they had drafted Frank and Steven to be the co-anchors, thrusting Jamie into the lead seat for the first time in his career. He was used to Jamie Redknapp being in charge and him just having to spout a few opinions now and again. 

 

However, he found working with Stevie and Frank to be a lot easier than he’d expected. Not that he thought the two wouldn’t be any good, especially after their performance the day before, but they had a real natural talent for television. And, honestly, talking to Stevie on camera was no different from talking to him in the dressing room for a decade. Sharing insights on the game and never shying away from something controversial.

 

"We're an hour from kick off, and we've just had word that the Malta police have apprehended two suspects in conjunction with the apparent attempt to poison the England National Team," Jamie said as they went live. "We have no details other than that, but as soon as we get them, we'll be sure to let you know."

 

"I suppose this confirms that it wasn't accidental if they've made an arrest?" Steven asked as it was his turn to make an insightful comment.

 

"It would appear so," Jamie said. "The lab must have turned up something."

 

"What do you poison beer with, anyway?" Frank asked. "And wouldn't it make the beer taste funny?"

 

"Hard to say," Jamie replied. "We've also got word of the England starting eleven for tonight, and well, it's certainly not a line up you would have predicted yesterday, Frank?"

 

"Nice to see John Terry getting a start again. England has missed him."

 

"Well, we have our Liverpool lads, Henderson, Lallana, and Sturridge who were not involved in the incident," Stevie commented, "My guess is Hendo let them know that if he so much as saw them look at a pint, he'd let Klopp know."

 

"Your club manager is always scarier than your country one," Frank chuckled.

 

"And you played for some scary ones," Steven joked.

 

"And some of the young names as well," Jamie said. "Some of these kids have a real chance out there today to show they deserve a call up on a regular basis."

 

"You do love the young talent, don't you?"

 

* * * *

 

England ended up winning 3-1 with a goal by Dom. When he saw the chance and put the ball in the back of the net, he just about lost it. He ran to JT and jumped into his arms, tears in his eyes.

 

He'd done it! He'd scored a goal for England! His dad was going to be so proud.

 

"Well done, son," his dad said on the phone as Dom called after the match, not even caring what it might cost.

 

"Thanks, Dad."

 

"You seem happier."

 

"Happier?"

 

"You've been a bit down, lately. What with you and Ruben breaking up."

 

"Breaking...up...?" Dom's mind was reeling. But...his parents didn't know about him and Ruben. But his father didn't sound angry. He always assumed his dad was going to be angry.

 

"Well, when you moved out, your mother and I assumed you'd broken up. I mean, not that you ever tell us anything about your personal life. Mostly we expect to see an announcement of your wedding in the papers. Would it kill you to call your mother and tell her these things?"

 

But Dom was still stuck on his dad talking about him and Ruben like it was no big deal. "I...I...I didn't."

 

"You thought we didn't know you were gay? Son. It's 2016. Your mother and I have known for years."

 

"But...I..."

 

"You didn't come out to us? Is that all still supposed to happen? Your sister never felt the need to announce to us she was heterosexual, why do you need to make an announcement about being homosexual?"

 

Dom shook his head, the tears coming in earnest now. "I love you, Dad."

 

"We love you too, son.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie visits Gary in the hospital

“Jamie, hi,” said Gary's wife, Emma, as he stopped in to see Gary one more time before he was headed back to England. Gary had yet to regain consciousness and the doctors were worried about his kidney function. They didn't dare move him, and there was no good reason for Jamie to stay in Malta.

 

He knew his wife Nicola was at least aware that Jamie had lovers, but she took it in stride. As long as he kept it quiet and came home to her, she left it. She knew many wives were not as forgiving, but he'd gotten lucky.

 

"Just stopped in to check on him," Jamie said as he hovered at the door.

 

"No change," Emma said, looking a little desperate. It had been two days. Everyone else had been sent home. She sat at his bedside, looking lost and forlorn among the beeping machines. She was nearly as pale as Gary ad he lay on the white sheets.

 

"He's a tough guy," Jamie assured her.

 

Gary's sister, Tracey, stuck her head in. "Emma, love, why don't you take a break. Jamie can sit with him for a bit."

 

"I'm fine," Emma said as she squeezed Gary's hand.

 

"She barely left his side," Tracey said with a sigh. "Ems, you need to get something to eat. You wasting away at his bedside isn't going to help anyone, least of all Gary." She walked over to her sister-in-law and laid her hands on Emma's shoulders. "Let Jamie have a word with him. I'm sure he needs to update Gary on what's going on with the football. The first thing Gary will ask when he wakes up is how the Spain/Israel match went."

 

"Spain won 3-0. Goals from Fabregas, Morata, and Silva," Jamie said with a slight smile. Gary would be worried to miss all the football. Gary could possibly talk about football more than Jamie could, and that was more than a lot.

 

Tracey took Emma away and Jamie took the seat she'd vacated, sandwiching his hands between his knees as he looked at Gary's face. "I'm sorry this happened, mate. I wish I'd have had one of those beers you offered me so you didn't drink them both yourself."

 

Jamie looked down at his hands. "You've got to be okay. Frank and Steven are going to steal your job if you're not careful. Do you know Sky signed them for a month? You're going to have to get back quick before those good looking bastards take the whole thing over."

 

Gary didn't stir and Jamie squeezed his hands tighter, feeling tears coming on. "Portugal managed to lose to Switzerland again. How in the world they won the Euros is completely beyond me. And without Cristiano. Honestly."

 

"Cristiano isn't as irreplaceable as he'd like everyone to think."

 

Startled, Jamie turned to look at Gary. "What?"

 

Gary opened his eyes a crack and gave him half a smile. "Cristiano. Don't get me wrong, I rate the guy, but he's not as amazing as he thinks."

 

"Mate," Jamie said as he stood up, a wide grin crossing his face. "You scared the shit out of us."

 

"What the hell happened?" Gary said as he coughed, his throat gone dry from the two days in hospital.

 

Jamie found a cup of water. He knew he should alert someone, but he wanted Gary to himself for a minute. "You had a few too many beers."

 

"I had two."

 

"They had poison in them."

 

Gary nearly choked on the water. "What?"

 

"Yeah, apparently the terrorists have moved on to poison. You might want to keep any eye out for snakes in your boots," Jamie said.

 

"Shit," Gary said. "How long have I been out?"

 

"Two days. Nearly three," Jamie said.

 

"Did England win?"

 

"Yes. More than half the team was ill, but we managed to bring in some emergency replacements," Jamie said. "And Steven Gerrard took your job on Sky Sports, so you might want to get with the recovering."

 

"Scouse bastard," Gary made a face. Stevie had never been his favorite person.

 

The nurse had noticed Gary awake and had come to investigate, looking well pleased to see him awake and talking. She got between Jamie and Gary and started to check all his vitals. 

 

A few minutes later, Emma returned and was ecstatic to see Jamie awake, and with the rest of the family altered, Jamie was soon crowded out into the corridor.

 

Out there, he ran into Gary's younger brother and Tracey's twin, Phil.

 

Phil smiled at him. "You showed up and started talking about all the football he's missed and it probably drug him out of the coma."

 

"He needed to know about the Portugal result," Jamie agreed with a beaming smile.

 

"You're a good friend to him," Phil said. "I know he values your relationship."

 

Jamie nodded, knowing that Phil knew. "I better get out of here or I'll miss my flight."

 

"I'll let him know. Take care, and be sure to call Sky with the exclusive."

 

"This is Jamie Carragher coming to you live from the bedside of fallen England hero, Gary Neville."

 

"Something like that."


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny and Jordan disagree and Cesc should maybe check his emails

"At least no one died," Adam said as news of Gary's recovery had reached the Liverpool dressing room. It was post-International break and the team had returned to training today.

 

Danny glanced at him. "How soon until someone is? Someone innocent?"

 

"Innocent?" Jordan said. "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean some of us aren't supposed to be the targets here. We're not the ones who've been caught in the crossfire."

 

Adam frowned but he had to admit that Danny had a point. "I know what you mean. Like, Gary Cahill never cheated on his wife and he was one of the ones who got sick."

 

"Exactly." His point made, Danny threw his spare boots into his locker.

 

"We're a team," Jordan protested. "If someone goes after one of us, we all stand together."

 

Danny frowned. "It's a noble sentiment, but I don't fancy an early grave because Wayne Rooney can't keep his zipper up."

 

“What should we do about it?” Adam asked, though he had been one of the targeted. But his crazy ex had nearly gotten Jordan killed, and that wasn’t okay.

 

“Raheem suggested maybe those of us us who haven’t been getting threats and haven’t been doing anything to piss off some crazy person should demand that the others be excluded from the England team,” Danny said, and realized his audience had grown wider than his two England teammates.

 

“Raheem did, did he?” Jordan said, his anger rising.

 

“So, what, you’re going to let these crazy people tear down your own team? They won’t have to kill any of you, they can just sit back and watch you do it to yourselves?” Lucas asked and looked disgusted. “Way to play into their hands.”

 

“So what do you think we do?” Danny asked as he was annoyed at the interruption. 

 

“I think you stand with your team. Look at Brazil. Constantly fighting amongst ourselves. Blaming everyone for not winning the World Cup. Oh, it was the coach, no it was this player, no, this other player. How did Germany win the World Cup?” Lucas turned to Emre.

 

“Uh,” he said, taken a bit off guard to be drawn into this argument. “We scored more goals than the other teams?”

 

Everyone laughed, even Danny and Jordan.

 

Lucas shook his head. “You did it as a team,” he finished his point. “Everyone in it together. No individual more important than another. That’s how you win.”

 

Danny sighed. “I’m not talking about winning football matches. I just don’t want to get murdered.”

 

Jordan slammed out of the room. Danny was wrong. This was the wrong time for the team to break down and let this stuff come between them. Yes it was serious. Yes, Gary Neville had a long road to recovery. Yes, Ruben Loftus-Cheek was still months from playing. Yes, nine people had been lost. Yes, he knew all of this. He knew some of those people had nothing to do with any of this. It was wrong and it was unfair.

 

“Okay?”

 

Jordan turned and saw a blurry vision of Adam following him toward the practice pitch. He hadn’t even realized he’d started to cry.

 

“No,” Jordan admitted as he slowed to let Adam catch up with him

 

Adam put an arm around him. “You mad about what Danny said?”

 

“No,” Jordan shook his head. “I’m mad that he’s right.”

 

* * * *

 

Cesc was a ball of nerves when he got back to Cobham after the international break. Iker had reported Geri’s threat to Julen Lopetegui and then after the news had circulated through the team, they’d realized that nearly half of them had gotten similar threats.

 

Cesc suspected the only reason he’d not had any threats was that he literally never checked his email. He’d shut off the notifications on his phone and there were probably a thousand of them waiting for him. Everyone he cared about sent him texts. Even his manager. He supposed he should check them but then he might find out that someone was threatening him and have to deal with it.

 

Being a true believer in the mantra” “If you ignore it long enough, it will go away”, Cesc saw no reason to ruin the surprise.

 

No, he’d never been unfaithful to Daniella with another woman. And she knew about Geri. Hell, she’d asked to watch a couple of times. But he’d had some slips in the past and he knew that some of that kind of thing was coming back to haunt people.

 

Geri still wasn’t speaking to him, but Pedro had told Cesc that the threat was from something he’d done ages ago and that Cesc really need to apologize.

 

Cesc didn’t need to apologize. 

 

“Did you eat a bowl of sugar for breakfast, Cesc?” Diego asked as he watched the Catalan vibrate.

 

“What? Me? NO!”

 

Cesc was totally fine. Totally. No one was going to try to kill him. Who would kill him? He was adorable. Adorable people didn’t die.

 

“Man, they sure had the England National Team’s number that they poisoned the beer,” Cesar said as he sat on Cesc’s other side. He looked at Cesc. “If they wanted to take you out, they’d just have to poison the ketchup.”

 

“OH MAI GAWWWWWWD!” Cesc yelled and ran out of the room with his phone in hand.

 

“What did you do to Cesc?” demanded Pedro.

 

“Nothing!” Cesar protested, startled by Cesc’s reaction.

 

“He threatened his ketchup,” Digeo giggled.

 

Pedro frowned at the pair of them and went to see what was up with Cesc.

 

He found Cesc in tears on the floor outside the dressing room, desperately searching through his emails.

 

“Cesc?”

 

“WHAT IF I GOT A THREAT AND I DIDN’T KNOW!”

 

Pedro took the phone out of Cesc’s hands. “Cesc. Breathe.”

 

Cesc’s face was streaked with tears and he sucked in a sobbing breath. “I said I didn’t get any but I might have and I didn’t know.”

 

Pedro glanced down at the iPhone and saw that there were over a thousand unread messages. “Cesc, someone could have offered you a billion dollars and you’d never know. When was the last time you checked this?”

 

Cesc sniffled and shrugged. “March?”

 

“You realize it’s February, right?”

 

“No one much emails me.”

 

“Uh, apparently they do,” Pedro said. He sat with Cesc and began skimming the lists of emails he’d gotten. “You have a lot of offers for viagra.”

 

“Really?” Cesc sniffled as he looked over at the phone. “Maybe I should get some.”

 

“Trust me, Cesc. You do not need boner pills,” Pedro started to delete messages by the dozen. “When was the last time you paid your credit cards?”

 

“My accountant does that.”

 

“Did you learn nothing from Leo’s tax fraud conviction?”

 

“I’m sure I pay taxes.”

 

Pedro gave him a side-eye.

 

“Okay, maybe I should check that,” Cesc said. He signed some forms every year. Yes, he was ninety percent sure he paid taxes. Eighty, anyway. Seventy.

 

“Who’s this?” Pedro showed him the phone.

 

Cesc took it.

 

“You’re next, Fabregas.”

 

Cesc went pale. “That’s not anyone I know.”

 

“It came last week,” Pedro said as he took the phone back. “Cesc, you gotta tell someone.”

 

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE.”

 

“You’re not going to die, Cesc,” Pedro said as he got up off of the floor. “Come on, we’ve got to show this to JT. He’ll know what to do.”

 

A tear-streaked Cesc and Pedro brought the phone to JT to show him the email. “Crap, you too, Fabregas?”

 

“I didn’t do anything,” Cesc protested. “I mean, not for like years.”

 

“Yeah, I got one too,” JT admitted. “We need to take this to the police. I’ll talk to Conte.”

 

“I can’t miss training!” Cesc protested. “I haven’t played an actual match since like fucking September.”

 

“It can wait until after training,” Pedro assured him with a look to JT. It seemed to say “Look, I just peeled him off the floor. It’s going to take five happy meals and a bucket of ketchup to fix this..”

 

JT nodded. “I suppose you’re right. It’s not like one more email is going to change much about the investigation at this point.”

 

“How can they not have caught these people?" Cesc wanted to know as he wiped his tears on the hem of his practice kit. "This is dozens of threats."

 

"Well, some of them have been already cleared as frauds," JT said. "The people found to be doing them were charged with misdemeanor email misconduct and threat to incite bodily harm with potential for mayhem."

 

"They got charged with what?" Pedro asked, making a face. He knew his English wasn't perfect but JT had surely made up those words.

 

"They're not behind any of the other shit," JT clarified. "The credible threats have all come from public labs of some sort or been traced to computers of people who've been cleared of all wrongdoing. They're not stupid."

 

"They're just bat shit crazy," Cesc said with a sigh.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eden and Cesar bond, Raheem goes public, and a dangerous road trip to White Hart Lane.

"Is it just the Spaniards and the English?" Cesar asked Eden as they lay cuddled on the couch that evening. The wives were out and they had a rare moment to themselves to watch the Champions League match between Leicester City and Barcelona. The half time report was giving the latest on the threats, with Cesc likely to be sleeping on the couch that evening as he'd been spotted heading into the police station.

 

"As far as I know," Eden said, know Cesar was asking but wasn't asking if he'd been getting threats. He'd never cheated on his wife with anyone but Cesar. Not even Michy but he doubted Cesar would believe him.

 

Eden wasn't the kind of guy who talked about his feelings. It wasn't that he didn't have them. He loved Cesar a lot. As much as he loved his wife and children. But Eden had learned at a young age that your emotions could be held against you.

 

So he kept Cesar at an arm's length. He relied on him for so much, but you'd never know it. At the end of the day, Eden left Cesar feeling like Eden could walk away if he wanted too.

 

It wasn't true, but it was to protect both of them.

 

Cesar relied on him too much, Eden knew. Was always at his side with a smile. Texting him when they were apart. Seeking comfort from him on nights like these when things hit too close to home.

 

Cesar hadn't gotten any threats, either. Cesar was too good, Eden pondered. No one hated Cesar. He had a smile for literally everyone. From the rude waitress at the coffee shop to Roman Abramovich. Cesar didn't care who you were. He was kind.

 

Eden often wondered what he'd done to deserve the love of this man.

 

"I'm beginning to think some of these people are just out for the attention," Cesar said. "They can't have the footballer of their dreams and they want someone to feel sorry for them."

 

Eden grinned as he snuggled his face into Cesar. "And they're angry that we're too busy fucking each other, probably."

 

"But neither of us have gotten threats," Cesar said with a smile. 

 

"I mean, we are pretty irresistible."

 

"You are," Eden said as he tipped his head up for a kiss. 

 

For a few long moments, they were lost in each other and the moment. Cesar was blissfully happy. For a minute there, he'd been afraid that he was going to lose this. Lose all the happiness.

 

"Eden? What the hell is going on here! Cesar!"

 

The pair sprang apart, and to their horror, realized that Eden's wife was home early.

 

"Daddy! You were kissing Uncle Cesar!" Yannis said with a giggle as he and Leo came in and jumped on top of the pair.

 

Natasha was glaring at the pair of them, but the kids kept her from completely losing it. "Cesar, weren't you going to go home?"

 

"No!" Leo protested as he climbed into Cesar's lap. "You stay. Mommy, Cessar stay."

 

"Stay."Yannis agreed as he too clung to the horrified Spaniard. Natasha actually looked like she wanted to kill him.

 

And he didn't put it past her to call Adriana.

 

"I really have to get going, guys," Cesar said as he attempted to extricate himself from the boys. Eden pulled off his older son and Cesar managed to get the younger one off. 

 

Cesar made a break for it, feeling bad about leaving Eden to face the wrath of his wife, but knowing that there really wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

 

* * * *

 

Becky came into the makeup room where the makeup artist was doing amazing things to tone down Stevie’s nose. The studio lights tended to catch it at the wrong angle which made it look a lot bigger than it actually was.

 

“We...have a situation.”

 

"No, Stevie refuses to get a nose job, sorry," Frank said as he watched the magic being performed.

 

Becky rolled her eyes at him. "I've had a call from Raheem Sterling."

 

"What did he want?" Jamie wondered. The striker had improved a lot for Manchester City this season, but he was hardly front page news.

 

"He's angry about the way the FA has been handling the threats and the attacks. He thinks they need to be excluding the players who are threats in order protect the players not being threatened."

 

She got three open mouthed stares from the three former England internationals.

 

"Is he serious?" Frank finally managed.

 

"He's not the only one," Stevie spoke up. "Hendo told me that Danny Sturridge had a fit about the same thing in the dressing room the other day. Apparently the two of them had a shouting match in front of the whole team."

 

"So Raheem, Danny...who else?" Jamie wanted to know. "This could drive a wedge through the team."

 

"The team is already a mess. Even before the beer," Stevie said. "Sure, they've won their last couple of games, but they're not a team, not really."

 

"Maybe we need to get Raheem in. Invite Danny and maybe another person if we can can find them and they're willing to come on. Bring this sentiment to light and...question them."

 

"You mean grill them until they break and admit that this kind of negative division is ruining the team?" Becky asked with a raised eyebrow. 

 

"What?"

 

"I'm not going to have you attacking our guests," Becky said.

 

"But can't you see how this is tearing the team apart?" Steven asked.

 

"What's tearing the team apart is that it's been attacked by some people who want to tear the team apart. The fact that some of these players are starting to complain, are we really wanting to paint them as the bad guys?" 

 

Frank, Stevie, and Jamie all looked at each other. There was a long moment where they were all thinking the same thing.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm a woman. I couldn't possibly understand the deep intricacies of the psyche of the modern footballer," Becky was just slightly sarcastic. "But you all are way too close to this. You have the mentality of the team over everything. But this is not football. This is people's actual lived we're talking about here. And they have the right to be upset."

 

Jamie sighed. "It's not the right way to go about this. You just don't air the team laundry on Sky Sports like this."

 

"I can't disagree with that," Becky said. "And yeah, I know that breaking down the team isn't the answer, but he's come to us. If we turn him down, then he will go somewhere else. We can either control how this happens or we can sit on the sidelines."

 

"She's not wrong," Stevie said. "And about not attacking him. Let him have his say and then, you know, ask questions."

 

"Reasonably," Frank agreed. 

 

Becky smiled. "Shall I set up the interview?"

 

Jamie grinned at her. "I suppose you better, then."

 

* * * *

 

The Chelsea team climbed on the coach to head to White Hart Lane for their annual trip to play their north London rivals, Tottenham Hot Spur. They'd arrived at Stamford Bridge as usual, but today the coach would be taking them the short drive to the north.

 

Well, it was normally a short drive. Today, the London traffic seemed to have taken on a life of it's own.

 

"Are we going the right way?" Mikel asked as he peered out the window, removing his Beats as he took in the view.

 

"Hell if I know," replied Kante who was, at best, directionally challenged. If he was going anywhere in London that wasn't the training ground or Stamford Bridge, he got an Uber.

 

"JT," Mikel called, knowing the London Boy would know. "Is this the way to White Hart Lane?"

 

JT peered over the seat at him and then out at the buildings passing by. "Driver must have taken some kind of a detour. The traffic was terrible getting out of West London."

 

Mikel looked at his watch. It was a five-thirty kick off and it was nearly four now. "Do you think we're close?"

 

"Do one of them map searches," Kante said.

 

But when Mikel tried to get the map on his phone to work, it said there was no signal.

 

"My phone's out," Mikel said. "Gimme yours."

 

But Kante's phone wasn't working either. They quickly learned that no one's phones were working.

 

"Okay, now that doesn't make any sense," Pedro said as he looked around at the nervous faces of the team members. 

 

"Some satellite went down or something," Cesc said reasonably. "Shit like this happens."

 

"Everyone, though?" Pedro asked. "We're all on different carries."

 

"Don't like, nuclear bombs like take out all electronics?" Dom asked as he peered out the window as though he actually expected to see a mushroom cloud off on the horizon.

 

"You watch too damn many super hero movies," Michy elbowed him.

 

"Says he who calls himself Batman and wears Spongebob underpants," Dom said.

 

There were nervous mutterings around the bus, and when the team realized that they were driving out of London, they definitely started to get anxious.

 

"Should we...ask the driver where we're going?" Mikel asked JT as it was getting close to four-thirty and they should have arrived at White Hart Lane.

 

"I'll check with Antonio," JT said as he made his way to the front of the bus where the manager always sat.

 

"Uh, Antonio?" JT asked as he glanced at the bus driver. It wasn't their usual guy. It was a woman with long, blonde hair. “The lads were starting to get a little concerned that we don’t seem to be headed to White Hart Lane.”

 

Conte, who’d never been to the run down place where Tottenham played hadn’t realized this wasn’t the right way.

 

"This is not north London?"

 

"No," JT said. "I think we've gone toward the East. We're way off course."

 

Antonio stood and leaned toward the driver. JT looked to Carlo Cudicini, the assistant coach and former goal keeper who was frowning. He too had noticed they were in the wrong place, but he hadn't said anything either, assuming they'd taken a detour to avoid traffic. You could live in London for 20 years and still not entirely be aware of all of the areas of the city.

 

"Excuse me," Antonio said as he leaned toward the driver. They'd come to a stop at a red light, and she turned to look at him.

 

As soon as she did, Carlo recognized her. "Holy, Shit. Lola, JT, the bus driver is Lola."

 

"Lola?" JT asked, his mind gone blank for a long moment, but when he turned and looked at the blond, the whole story came flooding back to him. 

 

Lola was a Chelsea fan who lived in America. She'd been a huge fan of Carlo's while he was at Chelsea, and when he moved to America to play for the LA Galaxy, she moved to Los Angeles and bought season tickets.

 

Carlo had struggled with LA; he didn't fit in the the culture very well and the fans didn't take to him. Lola had been very supportive and Carlo had ended up having an ill-advised affair with her.

 

When he'd returned to London, Lola had followed him. Carlo had eventually had to get a restraining order put against her. JT had assumed she would be one of the people making the threats, but Carlo hadn't even gotten a threat. The police had called and asked about her and Carlo had been cooperative, and when they'd gone to question her, they'd found a quiet, middle aged woman who worked at a Starbucks and wrote Harry Potter fan fiction. They'd checked her lap top and her phone and found nothing. She had an old account on LiveJournal that hadn't been updated in years. As far she they could tell, she was completely clean.

 

So why had she hijacked the Chelsea team and was driving them in the wrong direction away from White Hart Lane.

 

Once Lola realized she'd been found out, she floored the bus and ran through the red light. 

 

Antonio swore in Italian as he fell over backward onto JT, sending them both to the floor.

 

"Shit, someone stop her!" came a voice a few rows back, and even as JT scrambled to his feet, he realized that trying to wrest control of the bus from the crazed woman would likely result in crashing the bus at the very least, if they didn't also take out any number of innocent bystanders.

 

JT moved back and leaned to Carlo.

 

"You gotta talk to her mate," JT whispered. "Get her to stop."

 

"Me? What makes you think she's going to talk to me?"

 

"Dude, she used to have names for your imaginary children. She loves you."

 

"I haven't talked to her in years. Maybe she hates me."

 

"She doesn't hate you. Go," JT said and nearly shoved Carlo forward.

 

Carlo looked pained but he went to crouch next to her. "Lola, love?"

 

"Hi Carlo," Lola said brightly as she blew through another red light. "How have you been? How's the baby?"

 

"She's good," Carlo said. 

 

"That's great. We're nearly where we're going, so you guys can just sit back and we'll be fine."

 

"Lola, love, we'd really like you to slow down a little."

 

"Can't. If they think I'm insane they won't dare approach you. JT send you up here hoping you could sweet talk me into stopping. But that's not happening, Carlo, I'm sorry. It's not personal, I promise. This wasn't even my idea, but I understand the people who wanted to do this. It's not easy being the lover left behind, Carlo. It hurts a lot."

 

"I'm sorry, Lola."

 

"Oh, I know you are. It's fine. I've over it, really."

 

"Then maybe you could..."

 

"Not happening, sorry."


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kidnappers have demands

Before anyone on the team could go all man and try something stupid, Lola pulled the bus off the road and down narrow path. She was still driving too fast and the team had their teeth rattled as they bumped down the uneven road. She finally came to a stop in front of a big barn. The doors opened and she pulled inside.

 

"Hold tight, lads!" Lola called as she leaped off the bus and the door closed behind her.

 

JT immediately went to see if he could get the door open, but it had been locked and the emergency release disabled. "Do any of the windows open?"

 

Everyone sat by an emergency exit went to try and open their windows to get out, and found the mechanisms disabled.

 

Lola had turned off the bus and closed the barn door behind her, and the bus fell into darkness.

 

"So...this is unexpected," Cesc said as he peered into the darkness.

 

"We are so going to miss the match," Mikel fretted.

 

"Carlo, she's your ex?" Cesc asked as he clambered up to the front of the bus. "Is that Lola?"

 

Most of the team had heard the tale of Lola.

 

"The police checked her out!" Carlo protested. "When all of this started happening they called me and they looked into her. There was no indication that she was involved in this in any way."

 

"Lola is smarter than the police," JT said sagely. She had, after all planned a perfectly orchestrated campaign to get Carlo to have an affair with her. And Carlo was not stupid.

 

"She even got our phones to stop working so none of us can call for help," Pedro said nervously.

 

"Is she like, going to kill us?" Dom wanted to know.

 

"No," Carlo said, shaking his head. "She loves Chelsea. Like, obsessively loves Chelsea. It's her whole life."

 

"So why did she kidnap us?" Eden demanded. 

 

"She said that she was doing this for someone else," Carlo reported. "That it wasn't about me and her.

 

"She's your psycho ex," Eden grumbled. "It has to have something to do with you."

 

Carlo shrugged. "As far as psycho exes go, you could do worse than her."

 

"You had a to have a restraining order put against her."

 

"Yeah, but she's respected it. And I only did it because my girlfriend insisted," Carlo said.

 

"Oh good, she's a law abiding psycho ex," Eden scoffed.

 

Carlo's eyes narrowed. "She doesn't really like you. She hasn't liked you since we signed you. So maybe you should keep your mouth shut."

 

"Lads, lads," JT said, "come on, we've got to work together on this. We probably just need to wait for her to come back so that we can see what she wants."

 

"Do you think she'd involved with all of these other threats? If she has something against the English National Team, why did she kidnap us? Do you think she's trying to sabotage the match today? Will we be home in time for dinner?" Cesc had many questions. Important questions. Thankfully, he had a chocolate bar in the bottom of his kit bag.

 

As Cesc was finishing his Cadbury Dairy Milk, the barn door opened and four people walked in. Lola was at the head. There were two other women and a young man. They didn't appear to be armed.

 

"We can take them," Cesc said.

 

"We're going to listen to them," JT said and glared Cesc and his chocolate covered fingers back into his seat. It was nearly five. They were late for the warm-ups and people would already be on the look-out for them. They weren't that far out of London and someone would have seen the massive Chelsea bus take the turn off of the main road. If they could get these people to talk for awhile, they might actually get rescued.

 

Lola came to the door and opened it. "We want JT and Cesc."

 

"Wait, what, me???" Cesc squeaked from his seat.

 

"Come on," JT said as he gestured to Cesc and followed Lola out of the bus. Cesc whimpered and Pedro patted him on the back. "You'll be fine."

 

"You're her favorite," Carlo assured him as Cesc went past.

 

"OH HOW WONDERFUL FOR ME," Cesc said as he left the sanctuary of the bus.

 

JT looked at the young man and sudden recognition came to him. "Simon!"

 

"I'm glad your recognized me," Simon said with a smile. "I'd have been insulted if you'd forgotten."

 

Cesc was quaking. "You know this guy, JT?"

 

"He used to have a...thing with Petr Cech."

 

"A thing?" Simon said. "I am insulted."

 

Cesc was edging for the door off the barn, and the brunette standing behind Lola glared at him.

 

"Where do you think you're going?"

 

"NO WHERE!" Cesc yelped and ran back to JT.

 

"No one wants to hurt you, Cesc," Lola said. "Mostly, I was hoping for a cuddle."

 

"Wait, what?" Cesc asked, looking possibly more alarmed.

 

"She wants a hug, Fabs," the brunette said.

 

JT chuckled. "You kidnapped us to hug Cesc?"

 

"It's my payment for helping," Lola shrugged.

 

"Cesc, hug the nice lady."

 

"NO."

 

"Cesc, if you give her a hug, you can get back on the bus," JT negotiated.

 

Cesc made a face but allowed Lola to step forward and give him a hug. "Oooh, he smells good."

 

The third woman came over and gave him a sniff. "God, he does."

 

"Hands off, Jinx, you get to cuddle Mesut."

 

Lola grabbed Cesc's ass, causing him to squeak, and released him to run back to the bus.

 

JT eyed Lola. "You don't have weapons. We could probably over take you if we wanted to."

 

"There's a bomb under the bus," Lola held up a detonator. "If anyone comes off that bus and comes at us, we'll blow you up. Sorry."

 

"Fair enough," JT said. "So. What do you want?"

 

"We're done with all these threats. We're going to secure you here until we can flush out the people behind these threats," Lola explained. "We've been online with a number of them and we know they're all football fans. They want to teams to be playing, and if we take the footballers away from them, perhaps we can get them to come out of hiding."

 

JT stared at her for a long moment. "You kidnapped us to protect us from the other kidnappers?"

 

"We found a message board where they were threatening to blow up the dressing rooms at White Hart Lane today," Jinx said. "Quite frankly, we don't care if they blow Harry Kane off the face of the planet, but we'd rather they didn't take you all out."

 

"Why didn't you go to the police?" JT asked.

 

"Right, like they'd listen to us. All four of us have already been hauled in for questioning over this because we're fan fiction writers. We haven't done anything wrong and yet..."

 

"Scarlet," Lola interrupted her. She turned back to JT. "We have good reasons. The authorities have made a totally fucking mess of this investigation. They spent two weeks looking into me and my background even after Carlo assured them I was harmless. After my therapist assured them I was harmless. After a complete search of my internet history showed nothing. After they visited the local library and found out from all of the librarians that I was in every week and used the computers and they ran the history on all of those and found nothing and yet I still got a visit from a DI telling me not to leave the country. They're idiots."

 

"They arrested the wrong people in Malta," JT agreed. The police had brought in two people who'd delivered the beer and spent so much time interrogating them, when they finally discovered that the people who'd delivered it hadn't been the ones who'd purchased and poisoned it, the real culprits were half way to Paris and never caught.

 

"They've made a complete mess of the whole thing," Simon complained. "Did you see Raheem Sterling on Sky Sports last night? He's scared for the team, especially the team members who've not even been threatened."

 

"He's trying to tear the team apart," JT protested.

 

"The team is already torn apart," Scarlet spoke up. "Come on. You were with them in Malta. That dressing room is a hot mess."

 

"How do you know?" JT said, narrowing his eyes.

 

Scarlet smiled sweetly. "I know people at Liverpool."

 

JT sighed. "Okay, look. I don't disagree with your points here, but do you honestly think kidnapping a bus full of footballers is the answer?"

 

* * * *

 

Cesc had his nose pressed against the window. "That Lola fondled me."

 

"Do you feel violated, Cesc?" Pedro asked, trying not to laugh at him.

 

"Yes."

 

"She's pretty good in bed," Carlo commented. "You should enjoy the fondle."

 

"She's not bad looking," Cesar commented. Eden glared.

 

The whole team was practically tipping the bus over, all leaning over to look out the window where JT was talking to the kidnappers.

 

"He's like...agreeing with them. Why is he agreeing with them? What possibly could they be saying that JT is agreeing with?" Eden complained.

 

"Maybe they actually had a good reason," Michy said.

 

"I told you guys, Lola isn't so bad...I mean, as far as stalkers go, she's a good one," Carlo said.

 

"We are so going to miss the match," Mikel fretted. He looked at his watch and it was nearly time for kick off. "Surely someone has noticed we're missing by now."

 

"And that they can't get a hold of us," Cesc said. "Daniella is going to freak out if I go missing."

 

"Everyone is going to freak out. Do you suppose they want a ransom?" Gary Cahill asked.

 

"I say we pay it," Mikel sighed. "We could all spare a half mil, right?"

 

"Probably not," Dom commented, having blow most of his money on the flat. Not that he didn't expect more to be coming in, soon, he didn't have a lot of cash on hand.

 

"Eh, she doesn't want you anyway," Pedro said. "We can probably trade you for some pizza later and hold out for more for Cesc."

 

"Maybe we could offer her Cesc and let the rest of us go."

 

"Wait, what?" Cesc's eyes went wide.

 

"She keeps you, we all go free." Cesar agreed. "Let me go tell JT what we decided."

 

"I DO NOT WANT TO BELONG TO LOLA."

 

The team laughed, breaking some of the tension. JT didn't looked very concerned which put them at ease.

 

"Maybe this is all some kind of misunderstanding," Carlo said. 

 

"Or a reality show prank. Are we being filmed?"

 

"I am so not signing the release," Carlo said. His girlfriend was already going to have a huge fit as it was when it came out that Lola was involved. He was still apologizing for it three years later.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heist is on!

"I'm sorry, say that again?" Frank asked Becky as she came into the studio.

 

"The Chelsea team is missing," Becky said. "They first announced that they'd been stuck in traffic and that the kick off was going to be delayed, but the staff at White Hart Lane just let it slip that no one has any idea where the Chelsea team is."

 

Frank got out his phone and dialed JT's number. It went straight to voice mail, as thought the phone was turned off. He tried several other team members he had saved in his phone, but he got nothing.

 

"We need to go live," Becky said as Frank gave Jamie and Stevie a slightly panicked look. Where was JT?

 

The game was being showed on another channel, but the team was in for the post-match 

 

"Welcome back to the Sky Sports studio," Jamie said. "We are not hearing reports from White Hart Lane that the Chelsea team has yet to arrive at the stadium and they are currently unaware of their location." Jamie went on to explain everything they knew about the situation.

 

"London's a big city, but how does an entire bus full of footballers go missing?" Steven wanted to know after Jamie finished his report.

 

"And how are none of them currently reachable on cell phones," Frank wanted to know. 

 

Even as he asked the question, his phone rang.

 

Becky let out a groan from behind the camera. How in bloody hell had Frank forgotten to silence his phone?

 

And then he answered it.

 

"JT? Mate?"

 

"Hey Frankie, how are you?"

 

Becky's anger evaporated as she realized who he was talking to.

 

"Fine, where the hell are you?"

 

"Are you live on air?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Can you put me on?"

 

Becky signaled frantically to the tech guys and then to Jamie to send them to commercial.

 

"Hang on just a moment everyone, we're going to get John Terry back to talk with you in a minute," Jamie said as they went to commercial. 

 

"Babe, are you okay?" Frank asked.

 

"We're all fine, but the...kidnappers have some demands," JT said. "You remember Simon?"

 

"Holy...are you kidding me?" Frank went pale at the thought that his ex-lover was involved. 

 

"And Lola. She molested Cesc."

 

"Carlo's Lola???"

 

"Can you tell JT to call us on this number?" Becky interrupted and slid a sheet of paper in front of Frank.

 

Frank read the number off and reluctantly disconnected from the call, his mind swirling with what JT had said. Simon? Simon was involved? But Simon hadn't been sending him any threats. He and Simon had ended more or less amicably. He'd been between Elen and Christine and...

 

"Welcome back, we have Chelsea Captain John Terry on the phone with us, John, where are you and is everyone okay?"

 

"Hi Jamie. Firstly I'd like to assure all of the fans and families that no one on the team or staff has been injured in any way. We're all accounted for an unharmed."

 

"That's excellent news, John," Jamie said. "Where are you?"

 

"Well, that I can't say. I've just called to give you a message.

 

This is a message to the people who have been attacking the English National Team: The threats on the footballers need to stop. You are giving everyone in the fan community a bad name. Until you come forward to admit your guilt and stop this insanity, we will kidnap more footballers until there's no one left."

 

Jamie, Frank, and Stevie glanced at each other.

 

"So...these people aren't the ones behind the threats?"

 

"No," JT said. "They're on our side and they have no intention of harming any of us."

 

"So, they should let you go!" Stevie said. "This is ridiculous."

 

"This is all ridiculous," JT agreed. "You have 24 hours and then they strike again."

 

The phone disconnected and there was a long moment of silence. Only when Jamie realized Becky was furiously gesturing for them to start talking, but none of them had anything to say.

 

* * * *

 

"Someone kidnapped Chelsea!" Danny announced as he ran into the Liverpool team dining room. They had the 1 pm kickoff tomorrow and they were just settling in for dinner.

 

"Who's Chelsea?" Adam asked, confused.

 

"No, Chelsea! The team! Someone kidnapped the whole fucking team!"

 

The team had been at a light training session and no one had their phones to check the score or see the news. Danny had gone back to his room to check and see if Ruben had called (which he wasn't supposed to have done) and seen the news.

 

There was a long moment where everyone took in this news, and then Jordan said, "Well, someone get the fucking television on!"

 

Phillippe, who was closest, turned the TV on to the Sky Sports report which had finally gotten going again after the silence. The London Police and the president of Chelsea Football Club were making a statement about the situation.

 

"We are, of course, very concerned about the health and safety of our players," Bruce Buck was saying. "We would like to speak with these people again, if they could contact the club."

 

The Liverpool players were agape at the news. Who kidnapped a whole football team?

 

As the news continued, one piece of it set the team on edge. 

 

"They've threatened to kidnap further teams, which makes us very concerned with the safety of the Liverpool and Arsenal squads who play tomorrow at 1."

 

"Oh my god, they don't think someone would try to kidnap, us too?" Danny asked, alarmed.

 

"No...no," Jordan said. "I mean...they surely manged to get the Chelsea squad because they surprised them. I mean, who would expect some people to kidnap a whole team. And they must have been heavily armed."

 

"Why didn't one of the players just call for help?" Adam wanted to know. "I mean, seriously."

 

"The disabled their phones and removed the GPS off the bus. The police have literally no idea where they are right now," Danny said, as he'd been reading the BBC website in addition to the TV news.

 

"Okay, this is creepy," Adam said.

 

"So...they kidnapped the team to protect them from the terrorists?" Lucas asked. "That seems..."

 

"Insane?" Jordan asked. "Look, I'm going to go find Klopp. There's no way they'd try this kind of thing again, and if they did, we'd find ways to be ready for it."

 

* * * *

 

Cesc squirted ketchup on to his paper plate and sullenly ran his chips through it. He was going to start this match for the first time in ages and now he was sitting here in a barn in god knows where and his chips were soggy.

 

The team was still on the bus, but had been provided with fish and chips and cans of coke.

 

"You need more ketchup?"

 

Cesc started as Lola had come up behind him. How did she even know about the ketchup? "I have plenty."

 

"Sorry about the chips. Simon went to get dinner and had to go several towns over so they wouldn't wonder why he needed fish and chips for 30 people. He did make sure to have plenty of ketchup."

 

Cesc sniffed. "Is there dessert?"

 

"No, but we have some cheesy poofs if you're still hungry."

 

"Cheesy poofs?" Cesc asked hopefully.

 

Lola disappeared for a moment and came back with a large bag. She handed them over.

 

Across the bus, Cesc saw Antonio glare at him. As if the fish and chips for tea wasn't bad enough, now she was giving them processed snacks.?

 

Cesc ignored him and pulled open the bag. He had stress right now. He needed his poofs.

 

"Whenever I imagined getting kidnapped, it was worse than this," Cesar said as he looked at Lola from the seat in front of them. 

 

"We really don't want to hurt you," Lola said as she leaned on the chair.

 

"Then let us go," Eden bitched.

 

"Shut it, you little toe rag. My friend Kailyn really likes you or I'd have blown you up to make a point."

 

Eden's eyes got wide and he shut his mouth.

 

Lola slid down into the empty seat by Cesc. "God he gets on my nerves. Is he always this much of a jerk?"

 

"Eden's okay," Cesc defended his teammate. "He's worried like the rest of us."'

 

"JT called Sky Sports and let everyone know you guys are alright."

 

"Yeah, but this still sucks. Even if you don't want to hurt us."

 

"I know. But we wanted to make a point. No one listens to the fans. Especially the girls."

 

Cesc frowned. "We care about the fans!"

 

"Do you really?" Lola asked as she stole a handful of poofs. "I mean, you claim you do and you make a show of it sometimes, but for weeks now my friends and I have been trying to talk to someone and let them know that we had suspects in mind and wanted to help. But no, move alone lassies, you don't even really know anything about sports. Like having a penis is a requirement for knowing about balls."

 

Cesc let out AN involuntary chuckle. Wait, he was supposed to be angry. "My wife doesn't care about football. Not really. She brings the kids to the matches and she likes to hang out with the other wives, but she doesn't care about the game."

 

"And that's fine," Lola said. "Though I know a lot of the people who are behind all of these attacks think that you all should be with people who care about the sport."

 

Cesc shrugged. "I talk football all day every day at work. It's nice to come home to something else."

 

"I get it," Lola said. "But still, women can be passionate sports fans just the same way men can be. More passionate."

 

"Three out of four fans who kidnap footballers are women," Cesc grinned.

 

"Exactly."

 

"Lola?" Simon appeared in the door to the bus. "We got a call."

 

Lola got up, leaving the bag of poofs with Cesc and made her way off the bus.

 

"Who is it?" Lola asked as she crossed the barn to where the cell phone jammer they'd installed on the bus didn't reach.

 

"It's the London Police. They want to make a deal."

 

* * * *

 

The Liverpool team lost some sleep that night, but as the team organized at Melwood the following day, they were not surprised to see a large contingent of the local police. 

 

"They must not have found the Chelsea players," Jordan muttered to Adam as they took a seat in the dining room with the rest of the players. He knew that Klopp and the board had decided to go to the police, but had been sent to bed before anything had been decided.

 

A dark haired woman in a Liverpool police outfit stepped forward and addressed the players...in an American accent?

 

"Good morning everyone. The first think I'd like to assure you all that we do not believe you are in any danger. The London Police have been in contact with the group holding the Chelsea players and they are cooperating. No one has been harmed."

 

Jordan and Adam exchanged a glance. Well, that was good news, anyway.

 

"I am Scarlet Redwood, I am an agent with the CIA in the counter terrorism unit. I will be traveling with the team bus today to assure that we do not encounter any issues getting you to the match today."

 

There was a murmur from the team. Everyone seemed a little relieved. Even if it was an overreaction, they didn't mind.

 

"We have an agent traveling with the Arsenal team, so no hope of them not turning up to the match."

 

There was an amused chuckle. 

 

Klopp made a few announcements and the team was released to breakfast. Everyone went to pick up their trays, and Jordan went to talk to Agent Redwood.

 

"The team appreciates your help," Jordan said as he introduced himself to the woman who seemed a bit short to be a CIA agent. She did, however, look like she might kick your ass if you didn't behave yourself.

 

"We're happy to help," Scarlet said. "I've dealt with many international kidnapping cases. Well, none involving entire football teams, but..."

 

Jordan smiled. "Any word from the terrorists? Are they going to do what the kidnappers want?"

 

Scarlet shook her head. "Nothing yet."

 

Adam glared at Jordan flirting with the CIA agent. Sure, she was hot, but seriously. 

 

Jordan came back over to Adam who had picked up breakfast for Jordan. He handed him the eggs and multi-grain toast.

 

"Thanks," Jordan said with a smile. "She seems like she knows what she's doing."

 

"Mmm," Adam said with a look.

 

A grin broke over Jordan's face. "Are you jealous? Jealous of the hot CIA agent?"

 

"No," Adam said he began to shovel eggs into his mouth.

 

Jordan grinned and began to eat.

 

After breakfast, the team went to get ready to leave for the match. Everyone climbed onto the bus, and Jordan noticed immediately that they had a new driver.

 

"Where's Carl?"

 

The woman sitting behind the wheel looked at him with a cheeky smile. "Hi. I'm Emma. I'm specially trained in defensive driving techniques in case we have any trouble."

 

"Good," Jordan said, rather impressed that the police had women in charge of this operation.

 

"Vroom, VROOM!" Emma said as she turned the wheel of the stationary bus.

 

Jordan moved on. Alrighty then. He and Adam had a seat near the front and were right behind Scarlet.

 

The team settled into the bus and they pulled out of Melwood. Jordan was very familiar with the drive and when they took a left when they needed to take a right almost immediately after leaving the training grounds, he knew something wasn't right.

 

"Hey, this isn't the right way," Jordan leaned over the seat to talk to Scarlet.

 

"We're going a different way," Scarlet assured him. "If we're going to be hijacked, they'll know your usual route so we're trying to confuse them."

 

Jordan couldn't disagree, but he knew some of the more superstition lads would not be happy with the route change.

 

Scarlet sent a text: Henderson is suspicious. I may have to block the phones sooner than we planned.

 

The reply came: Do what you need to. Everything is in place.

 

* * * *

 

"Are you actually fucking kidding me?" Jamie exclaimed when the news came in that the Arsenal coach had gone missing. "They fucking told us that they were going to target other teams if their demands weren't met and they fucking got the Arsenal bus too?"

 

"Does someone have an eye on the Liverpool bus?" Steven asked a little nervously, having meant it as a joke, but it falling completely flat in the room.

 

"I had a text off of Hendo earlier. They have cops and even some CIA agents traveling with the team, they should be fine. Those damn Arsenal people must not have taken it all seriously," Jamie said.

 

"You'd think they'd go for Liverpool," Frank said. "Those fan fiction girls love some Liverpool."

 

"Not as much since Stevie and Xabi left."

 

"Mostly it seemed to be after Nando left," Stevie sighed. "Everyone loved Nando."

 

"I know, right?" Frank said. "Is there anyone that they haven't slashed Nando with?"

 

"Me," Becky said. "We need to get on the air."

 

As Jamie was reporting about the missing Arsenal coach, news had come in about the Liverpool coach being missing too.

 

"Mother f-..." Stevie censored himself just in time as Jamie shared the update.

 

"Well," Frank said. Maybe this will finally convince someone that they're serious."


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EVERYONE IS SAVED!

Jinx pulled the Arsenal bus into the bus right behind the Liverpool bus. There was just about enough room for the three of them.

 

"Shit, Emma, how the fuck fast do you drive?" Jinx asked as she got off the bus and locked in the Arsenal squad. 

 

"How slow do you drive," Emma said. "We've been her half an hour and you left earlier than us."

 

"I didn't want to wreck and hurt any of the players!" Jinx defended herself.

 

Jordan Henderson was talking with JT and Lola, and seemed rather relaxed.

 

"We need the Arsenal team captain," Lola said.

 

"Do you know who that is?" Jinx asked with a frown.

 

"Theo? No...Per?"

 

"Yes, Per," Jinx gave her a look.

 

"I'm a Chelsea fan!" Lola protested. "Last I knew Cesc was captain."

 

"Cesc puked cheesy poofs into the coach toilet," JT reported. "The team is about to revolt."

 

"I'm hoping this isn't going to take much longer," Lola said as Jinx went to get Per.

 

"We still have 5000 words to go. We need to drag it out a little bit longer," Simon said.

 

"Gah, this story is making me insane," Lola sighed. "Can I fondle Cesc again?"

 

Jordan frowned. "You fondled Cesc?"

 

"I did," Lola beamed. "Scarlet, did you want to fondle a Liverpool player?"

 

"Oooh, can I think on it?"

 

"Sure," Lola allowed, feeling very generous as she'd been drinking Strongbows and watching Chelsea beat Tottenham.

 

Per emerged from the bus several minutes later, looking apprehensive. Jinx was not following him.

 

"Where did Jinx go?"

 

"She'd cuddling Mesut," Per said with a frown. 

 

"Aw, everyone gets a cuddle," Lola sighed. 

 

"Ooh! I want to cuddle Loris Karius," Scarlet said as she had been surveying the people peering out the bus.

 

"Have at it," Lola invited as she really needed to reduce the number of people to have in this conversation. She already had JT, Jordan, and Per. As it was, Simon was going to have trouble getting a word in edgewise.

 

"Hey Simon, you want to go check on Petr?"

 

"Can I go get Carlo and take him to Petr and hope they make out?" Simon asked, his eyes lighting up like a little kid.

 

"You go to town," Lola encouraged and watched Simon happily scamper off the the Chelsea bus to retrieve Carlo. They all watched as the Italian keeper followed Simon off the Chelsea bus over to the Arsenal bus. Carlo didn't look any of them in the eye.

 

"That's lovely," Lola said as she wiped a pretend teach from her eye.

 

"So," Jordan said as he looked to Per, "did your fake CIA agent kidnap your team too?"

 

"Scarlet and Jinx aren't fake agents," Lola said. "They're real agents who are part of of a sting operation we set up to help draw out the terrorists who'd been sending all the threats and have perpetrated the attacks on the England national team."

 

"They're real agents?" Per said. "Real actual CIA agents are fondling our teammates."

 

"Well, I'm not a CIA agent," Lola said as she reached for JT's ass.

 

JT smacked her hand away. "I told you one grab."

 

Lola pouted.

 

"So...what are we doing?" Jordan asked. "We were supposed to be having a football match tonight."

 

"I know. Sorry. We'll get it re-scheduled and make sure the fans are compensated," Lola said. We just got word from the London Police that they've been contacted by people claiming to be at fault and wanting to talk," Lola reported. "With any luck, we'll have you all home some time soon."

 

"What about the bombs on the buses?" JT narrowed his eyes.

 

"There was never a bomb," Lola beamed. She pulled the "detonator" out of her pocket. "It's just a box with a button on it."

 

"So, we could actually leave at any time," Per clarified.

 

"Do you want to catch these bad people and end this nightmare of a novel that I'm only still writing because I have an overactive need to finish things," Lola said. 

 

"You kidnapped Chelsea, Liverpool, and Arsenal," JT said. "Why didn't you take the Tottenham players?"

 

"Like anyone would turn themselves in to rescue Harry Kane," Lola rolled her eyes.

 

The three footballers chuckled.

 

"So, anyway, reassure your teams, tell them dinner is on the way, and if they want to co-habitate with members of other clubs, we would not only allow that, but we would also encourage it."

 

"You do realize this novel has devolved into a painfully bad fan-fic," Jordan said. 

 

"Dear, this novel has been a clusterfuck from day one. But we're almost done."

 

* * * *

 

"This is basically a slumber party with footballers," Lola commented as she carried a pizza to Simon who was in the back of the bus watching Carlo and Petr make out.

 

"I know, right?"

 

"You do realize that we might go to jail for participating in a heist of footballers, right?" Lola said as she gazed at the pair and selected a slice for herself. She kicked Aaron Ramsey out of a seat and leaned on the edge of it.

 

"Scarlet promised that the US Government will help up if the teams do decide to press charges."

 

Petr disengaged from Carlo. "I think if you can actually get these threats and all this madness to end, the teams will be so grateful that they'll forgo pressing charges."

 

Carlo smiled at Lola. "I'll vouch for your character."

 

"Thanks, Carlo. I did try to tell the police I was over you. I mean, of course I still adore you, of course, but my therapist thinks I'm completely over the obsession."

 

"Lola, you know you can't quite Carlo," Petr said as he dove back in for another kiss.

 

Lola and Simon ate their pizza.

 

"Is it weird that we're just sitting here watching this?" Lola wondered.

 

"Probably," Simon agreed. But you're writing this, not me."

 

* * * *

 

Gary Neville was finally back on Sky Sports, having wedged Gerrard out of his chair. Gary had made a full recovery and Jamie Redknapp had retired from Sky Sports because the writer was really trying to differentiate between Jamie Redknapp and Jamie Carragher. Honestly. Who hired both of them to do sports reporting on the same channel. Why didn't Becky say, "Look, we have a Jamie already. You can't be here."

 

"We'd like to welcome Gary back to the show," Jamie said with a warm smile. "And we'll let him share the breaking news that has just come in."

 

"Thank you, Jamie. We've just had word from the London police that the ring leader of the terrorist group who has been threatening the footballers has been arrested. The woman who has not yet been identified has confessed to arranging the poisoned beer and having a hand in the England National Team training center. She has agreed to give the police the names of the other people who were involved."

 

"That's excellent news," Jamie said. "Does this mean the Chelsea, Liverpool, and Arsenal players will be released?"

 

"We're taking you live now to a remote barn in Alyesbury where Frank Lampard is waiting to bring you pictures of the rescued footballers. Frank?"

 

The screen switched to a shot of Frank standing in front of a large red barn. Large enough to house three full sized buses.

 

"Thank you, Jamie," Frank said. "We're here at the site where the missing footballer have been hidden. I'm happy to report that all of the footballers are accounted for and the only casualty seems to be Cesc Fabregas who's been eating too many snacks and threw up yesterday. If you'd like to come inside..."

 

Frank slid the barn door open and revealed all three of the team buses with various footballers milling around. If you were paying attention, you might have caught sight of Adam and Jordan making out beside the Liverpool bus.

 

"Here's captain John Terry, a good mate of mine, John, can you tell us what's gone on here?" Frank asked.

 

"Well, it's been a little crazy, Lampsy," JT said with a smile at the camera. "The CIA has been working in tandem with the London police to stage these kidnappings to flush out the terrorists, and it appears to have worked."

 

"Indeed it has. It looks like everyone is in good spirits here," Frank caught sight of Carlo and Petr off behind the camera with none other than his ex, Simon.

 

"Very good, actually," JT said and realized Frank was distracted. "We've been well looked after, though the gaffer's not best pleased that the agents have been feeding us a lot of junk food."

 

"Any idea when your matches will be replayed?" Frank managed to tear his eyes away from the spectacle.

 

"Not yet, but I know we're keen to do it soon. Well, less keen than if Tottenham had been involved in this."

 

"Any idea why they chose the players they did?" Frank asked.

 

"Well, a few, but I certainly don't want to give away any of the CIA's secrets," JT said with a wink.

 

Frank wrapped up his report and as the camera crew went around to gets some more shots for later reports, he made his way over to Carlo and Petr.

 

Simon saw him and scampered away.

 

"Lads, seriously, we have a camera crew here," Frank said as he rolled his eyes at Carlo.

 

"We're making the best of a bad situation," Petr said. "Hey, where did Simon go?"

 

"I don't think he wants to talk to me," Frank commented dryly as he spotted Simon hiding behind Lola. "He's surely not in the CIA."

 

"Nah," Petr said as he continued to fondle Carlo's ass despite Frank's warning. "He and Lola are civilians helping Scarlet and Jinx. I'm really rather impressed how they pulled this all off. They managed to replace the drives, seal with windows, and install the cell phone signal jammer thing. Lola and Simon has a future with the CIA."

 

"Except for having restraining orders put against them," Carlo pointed out.

 

"I never filed a restraining order," Frank clarified. "But I did have to change the locks on my house."

 

"Eh, Simon's fine," Petr said, never having understood why Frank sent Simon away in the first place. I mean, sure, he wanted to be with JT and all, but Simon was hot.

 

"Do we have to go home?" Petr wondered. This was like the greatest sleepover ever.

 

"Yes. Your babies miss you and your wife is probably freaking out," Carlo said as he gave Petr one last kiss. "But call me later."

 

Carlo went off to get back on the bus and Frank beamed at Petr. "Well, that looks like it's back in full swing."

 

"I know. He came back to London and didn't seem interested."

 

"Well, he was dealing with Lola at the time."

 

"True," Petr said. "And I hear you and JT seem to be doing well."

 

Frank grinned. "Very, very well, thank you."

 

"All the old OTP's back on, then?"

 

"All the best."

 

* * * *

 

“Do you think it’s finally over?” Adam asked as the Liverpool coach pulled back out of the bus, this time driving by their proper driver, Carl.

 

“All the terrorist stuff? God, I hope so. I’d like to get back to my normal life.”

 

“Really?” Adam asked, loading way too much into one word. 

 

Jordan looked at him. “Do you really want to do this? Get divorces and really be together?”

 

“I really do,” Adam said. 

 

Jordan smiled at him and took his hand, kissing the knuckles. "Me too."

 

"I say as soon as we get home, we sit down our wives...and tell them," Adam said. 

 

"They may not be happy. They made take us to the cleaners in the courts, demanding insane alimony and child maintenance."

 

"We're not abandoning our kids," Adam clarified.

 

"Of course we're not, don't be stupid," Jordan smiled. "We're going to build a commune with the kids."

 

"I don't think our wives are going to give us the kids."

 

"Uh, no. You know my wife barely trusts me to be alone with them for more than an hour," Jordan said. 

 

"Because you give them candy and let them stay up for all hours," Adam chided. "If we're going to be co-parenting, we may have to set down a few ground rules."

 

"Oh, like you don't buy yours every damn thing you see when you walk through a shop!"

 

"My kids are no more spoiled than yours!"

 

"Both of your kids are spoiled," Danny called over the seat. "Equally." He came up onto his knees and peered down at the pair of them. "If you get married, can I be the best man?"

 

"No," Jordan said, making a face. "You're going to be the flower girl."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, kids, we're near the end. If there's a request for something to be wrapped up before we get done, I got about 2750 words to finish it!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blessed end.

When Cesc dragged into the house, he was met by a frantic wife and four clingy children.

 

"Oh, baby, oh don't ever do anything like that again," Daniella cried, his normally perfectly put together wife looking like actual hell. Her mascara had run and she was in a pair of his sweats and an old Puma t-shirt. Lia and Joseph were attached to his legs and even Maria looked like she'd been crying. Okay, so Capri sat off the the side chewing on the ear of a stuffed bear, but she was totally concerned.

 

"Hey, hey, I'm fine. We were never in any danger," Cesc assured her as he hugged everyone tightly. 

 

"You were gone for two days," Daniella sniffled into his shoulder. Cesc dropped his bag and picked her up, enjoying the weight of her against him. He half dragged the kids to the living room where they all tumbled into the sofa, a tangled pile of limbs. They arranged themselves and Capri toddled in to join them.

 

"How's the baby," Cesc asked as he lifted Capri to him and nuzzled Daniella's belly.

 

"He's fine. He was worried," Daniella said as she pulled Capri between them.

 

"You tell Francesc, Jr that his Papi is just fine," Cesc said as he put and arm around Joseph and pulled his step-son close. He kissed the boy on the forehead and he closed his eyes, reveling in these people who meant the whole world to him.

 

"Love Papi," Lia said as she burrowed in.

 

"Love you too, Princessa."

 

Cesc shared his story, though leaving out the part where Lola molested him. They already knew he'd threw up after eating too much junk, but then again, they lived with him. Little that he did surprised them.

 

They ordered dinner in and ate it on the white couch, a general no-no, but Daniella didn't complain this once. They let Lia pick the movie which meant a movie with Minions in it, and then Cesc put all of the kids to bed.

 

When he made it to their bedroom, Daniella was asleep on the bed. She probably hadn't slept in two days. Three maybe since she often said she had trouble sleeping when she wasn't around. He left her to sleep and went to get a shower. 

 

He'd missed his shower. Being on that bus had made every muscle in his body ache, and it wasn't all the junk he'd eaten. You could only sit on one place so long.

 

He let the water run over him for a long time. When he finally got out of the shower, he realized his phone was ringing. 

 

He wrapped a towel around his middle and grabbed it before it woke Daniella.

 

"Geri," Cesc smiled as he accepted the Face Time request.

 

Gerard's worried face came on the screen. "Hey Cescito. You had a us all fucking worried down here. I thought Andres was going to get on a plane to come look for you himself."

 

"Andres was no match for who we had kidnapping us," Cesc said as he settled into the chair at Daniella's vanity. He told the whole story to Gerard, who was impressed in all the right places.

 

"You got fondled," Gerard chuckled.

 

"She was...scary!" Cesc laughed with him.

 

"I'm glad you're okay," Gerard said with more seriousness than Cesc had probably ever seen from his best friend.

 

"I'm glad I am too," Cesc said. "I'm sorry about....all that."

 

"It's forgotten," Gerard agreed. "Besides. You know you and Sha are the only two people I ever loved."

 

"And maybe the boys."

 

"Eh, maybe," Gerard smiled.

 

"I better go," Cesc said. "Daniella will come looking for me if I don't get in bed soon and something tells me we may have a few little ones in bed with us as well."

 

"I love you, you idiot."

 

"I love you too."

 

* * * *

 

Danny hitched a ride with the Chelsea team back to London so he could go see Ruben. Klopp even gave his blessing for him to not come back to Liverpool until the following day.

 

Danny went to Ruben's apartment. He'd moved back in after Dom had left, taking up the lease on his own. Danny had a key and let himself in. Ruben was off the crutches and back to light training.

 

"Hey you," Ruben said as he greeted Danny. "That little adventure kind of made me glad I've been hurt."

 

"You missed Jordan and Adam making out on the bus."

 

"Oh, we all saw it on Sky Sports News," Ruben chuckled. "I'd not like to be in their shoes when they get home to their wives tonight."

 

"They're planning to leave them anyway," Danny said. He leaned on the island in the kitchen and peered at what Ruben was making. "Pasta?"

 

"You like this one with the pesto, right?" Ruben asked as he held up a pot from Marks and Spencer.

 

"My favorite," Danny agreed.

 

"I was talking to the training staff and they said they're thinking about sending me out on loan in March to finish up the season."

 

"Where?"

 

"Wigan," Ruben said, offering a taste to Danny who ignored it.

 

"That's like, practically up the road from my place!"

 

"I know," Ruben grinned.

 

“You could, uh….live with me,” Danny said carefully, still ignoring the spoon in his face.

 

“I mean...if you didn’t mind,” Ruben said and gave up with the spoon. He set it on the stove.

 

“MInd? Mate, I’ve worn out the tires on my car driving back and forth to London for months. I’ve LOVE it if you moved in with me!” Danny threw his arms around Ruben and hugged him tightly.

 

* * * *

 

“No, back off, no, I get to play Chelsea,” Cesc elbowed Michy on the couch, trying to get the controller out of his hand, but it was a losing battle against the much larger Belgian.

 

“No one gets to play Chelsea,” Dom admonished from the kitchen where he was getting a tray of vegetables out of the refrigerator. After Cesc’s episode on the bus, Conte had enlisted the help of Cesc’s friends to try to get the Catalan eating healthier. He could have some ketchup if he put it on grilled chicken and not chips. “House rules.”

 

“Fine, I’m Barcelona,” Cesc conceded and Michy handed over the controller.

 

“How is Barcelona these days? Like 12 points back from Real Madrid?” MIchy teased and Cesc gave him a glare.

 

“Six.”

 

“And El Clasico this weekend??”

 

“DOM WHERE’S THE SNACKS?” Cesc called pitifully to the kitchen.

 

“All ready,” Dom said as he carried the tray of raw vegetables with fat free yogurt dip to the coffee table. There was a knock at the door and Pedro and Cesar let themselves in.

 

“Is Diego coming?” Dom asked as he watched Cesc’s face fall at the sight of the tray.

 

“I think so. He was online ordering more shoes when I called him,” Pedro said.

 

“He wears the same pair of ratty old trainers every single day to training. Why is he always buying shoes?”

 

“I have no idea,” Pedro said as he grabbed a handful of carrots and claimed his favorite chair.

 

“Are we doing five or six for the tournament?” Michy grumbled as he looked at the bracket he’d spent all morning compiling.

 

“Put Diego in and if he doesn’t turn up, give whoever got paired against him the bye,” Cesar pointed to the chart. It was some kind of double elimination something or other. Michy took his FIFA very seriously.

 

Cesc got his Barcelona team sorted out and went up against Pedro for the first round, handling him easily. Pedro wasn’t very good at FIFA. He, like, didn’t play in every spare minute of his time like he was some kind of crazed lunatic. Or maybe and adult.

 

Diego did indeed turn up in his ratty trainers and beat Cesar as Cesc discovered Dom’s secret stash of crisps and stuffed a few handfuls into his face before his next match.

 

In the end, Dom emerged victorious. Everyone was lying around, thinking they probably needed to get home to partners. Pedro glanced at Michy and Dom in the kitchen, standing rather close and giggling about something.

 

“Lads, I think it’s time for us to make our exit.”

 

Cesc was getting ready to start up another FIFA match. “One more game?”

 

Cesar noticed as well and got up. “You can come up to mine and play another round if you want.”

 

“But…” Cesc was about to complain that he already had his team selected, but Pedro shut off the game and Diego hauled him to his feet.

 

“Time to go,” Diego said as he pushed Cesc to the door.

 

Dom didn’t even protest at their sudden exit. Hell, he barely noticed.

 

“They’re so cute together,” Pedro smiled like a proud parent as they took the lift up to Cesar’s place.

 

“I thought Michy was into Eden?” Diego asked, several chapters behind the story.

 

“Nah, Eden is into Cesar,” Cesc reported.

 

“Ugh, Eden’s not talking to me right now after his wife caught us together,” Cesar sighed.

 

“You guys will work it out. You always do,” Pedro said confidently.

 

“So I guess club really does win out over country?” Diego said.

 

“Nah, I’m still with Geri,” Cesc said.

 

“I suppose that’s really club, though, too,” Pedro pointed out. “I mean, when you change clubs as much as you do…”

 

“Three clubs!” Cesc protested. “Three! In like fifteen years. That’s like nothing. Ballotelli has been to fifteen in the last three years alone.”

 

The all tumbled out of the lift on Cesar’s floor. They hadn’t even been drinking, but when you got a clutch of Spaniards together, they acted like they were about five.

 

Out front of Cesar’s place was waiting none other than Eden Hazard.

 

“Eden! My brother!” Diego said and went in for a hug.

 

Eden allowed himself to be hugged, but he gave Cesar a clear, “Can you get rid of them?” look.”

 

“Alright lads, clear out,” Cesar said as he went to unlock his door.

 

“But...FIFA,” Cesc whined even as Pedro pulled him back toward the lift.

 

“I have some cheesy poofs,” Pedro lied to get Cesc moving.

 

“Poofs?” Cesc perked up as the lift doors closed.

 

“Can we talk?” Eden said as he followed Cesar into the quiet apartment.

 

“My wife is upstairs with Carolina,” Cesar told him.

 

“I just want to talk,” Eden assured him.

 

Cesar went to get them a couple of glasses of wine, and then the two of them went to sit on the couch.

 

Eden took a long drink before starting. “Look...you know how much I care about you…”

 

Cesar took a drink. He was getting dumped. Finally. He’d been expecting this moment for a long time now. He supposed he’d been in denial longer than that. He knew he was cheating on his spouse and it was wrong. He knew this. But he also knew how JT and Frank made it work. Why couldn’t he and Eden make it work?

 

Eden was looking at him expectantly, and Cesar realized he’s just missed everything he said. “What?”

 

Eden chuckled. “I said I love you, idiot.”

 

“I love you too,” Cesar replied automatically.

 

“Which is why I still want to be with you.”

 

“You’re not breaking up with me?”

 

“No!”

 

“I thought you were here to break up with me!”

 

“No! Aren’t you listening??”

 

“Apparently not…”

 

Eden shook his head. “I’m just saying that I think we can make it work. I’ve talked to Natasha and she said she knows what you mean to me, and as long as I agree to keep it out of the house and never leave her, she’s, well, she’s not okay with it…”

 

“Is that okay for you?”

 

Eden shrugged, “I know I can’t give you up.”

 

“I never want to give you up.”

 

* * * *

 

“My wife likes you,” Gary said as he and Jamie stood on the back deck of Gary’s Manchester mansion. Jamie had brought his wife and kids over for dinner and the two of them were ostensibly looking at the new solar power generator Gary had installed a few months ago.

 

“She’s pretty nice, too.”

 

“She was impressed when you came to see me in the hospital. Becks never came to visit me in the hospital.”

 

“How many times you been in the hospital, mate?”

 

Gary chuckled. “You know what I mean. She thinks you’re a good friend.”

 

“I try,” Jamie said with a smile. “So I take it she knows….”

 

“Yeah. She’s good with it. She has all of her interests and the kids and well, she’d rather me having you than, you know, having an affair with my sister in law.”

 

Jamie grinned. “I hear that’s very popular in Manchester.”

 

Gary slid his hand into Jamie’s and squeezed it. “I think you’re a much better choice.”

 

* * * *

 

Jordan and Adam set up a time to meet with their wives and share the news that they were leaving them and moving in together. At first, Adam had thought it would be best to talk to them seperately, but Jordan convinced him that maybe it would be better to talk to them at the same time.

 

They sat in Adam and Emily’s living room, the kids having been shipped off to the grandparents. They sat together on the couch and Jordan and Rebecca sat on the love seat opposite. 

 

“We need to tell you something,” Jordan said slowly.

 

Emily and Rebecca shared a look. Emily said, “If you’re seriously her to tell us that the two of you are lovers, you must think we’re complete idiots.”

 

Adam looked at his wife, shocked. “But…”

 

“Everyone in England saw you making out behind the bus on Sky Sports. Seriously,” Rebecca laughed. “But we knew before that.”

 

“And you didn’t say anything?” Jordan gaped.

 

“Well, after Adam walked in on us, we figured live and let live, you know?”

 

“So you two really are lovers??” Adam said.

 

“Jesus, Adam, we were naked!”

 

“Well...you had a bathrobe on,” Adam sputtered.

 

“I told you they didn’t realize,” Rebecca laughed.

 

Jordan shook his head. “Well...I mean...we thought…”

 

“You’re sweet,” Rebecca touched the side of his face. “So….was that it or did you have something else?”

 

“Well,” Jordan said as he looked at Adam, unsure if he wanted to press on, but Adam nodded. “We were...thinking about ….leaving you...”

 

“I win!” Emily said as she jumped to her feet.

 

“Son of a bitch, I never thought they’d do it,” Rebecca said and reached into her pocket for a 20 pound note.

 

Jordan and Adam could do nothing but stare. 

 

Emily laughed as she pocketed the cash. “Rebecca wanted to wait until the end of the season to tell you we were leaving you, but I bet her 20 that you’d leave us, first.”

 

“Wait, what?” Adam finally managed.

 

“Leaving. You,” Emily said, but then added. “I mean, you were already talking about leaving us. Now this saves us the trouble.”

 

“We decided that since our house has enough bedrooms for the kids, Emily and I would live there, and let the two of you have this house. We figure there’s enough space for them when they visit, but with you both out of town so much, it made more sense for the kids to stay with us.”

 

“I can’t believe they have this sorted out,” Jordan was dazed.

 

“And they had the same plan we did,” Adam added.

 

Emily kissed his cheek. “I still love you and I know you love the kids, but let’s face it, this is better for everyone.”

 

“I suppose so.”

 

* * * *

 

Frank lay with JT on the couch, watching El Clasico. They were at opposite ends of the sofa, but their feet were touching. Georgie and Summer were on the floor with snacks, arguing who was a better footballer, Cristiano Ronaldo or Leo Messi.

 

“Messi.”

 

“Ronaldo.”

 

“Messi.”

 

“Ronaldo.”

 

“Messi.”

 

“Ronaldo.”

 

“Messi.”

 

“Ronaldo.”

 

“Hey,” JT finally cut in. “You can stop. Lola got her 50,000 words.”


End file.
